Stars
Peering wistfully out of my rusty window case,
The bitter,creep breeze,fresh on my face.
Not a sound to be heard;complete silence,
Only the slight rattling of the rickety fence.
Natures divine of what beauty lies within,
More than a trillion crystal up above;all of same kin.
Diamonds,shimmering and glimmering in the dimly lit-up sky,
So many gleaming beauties,I wonder how high.
It was a childish and naive wonder,if I could hold one of these in my hand,
Or if on my doorstep,one day,a shooting star would land.
With my hands,I would clasp it tight,
Close my hands and wish with all my might.
They seem so minuscule,yet many are bigger than our Earth,
Some stars are now dying,yet some are still at birth.
What a wonder!I notice the shape of a bear.
I lean far out of my window,exuberant,the gust blowing my hair.
A bull and a scorpion!What shapes made by those pearls,
I gaze in awe as a glistening shooting star hurls.
But,oh heavenly bodies up above;what does thou truly mean,
They all say 'Souls of the Dead' of prophecies not unseen.
Oh scattered moon-dust,thy gleaming glow blinds my eyes,
From deeper within thy core and the truth that lies.
Peering wistfully out of my rusty window case,
The bitter,creep breeze,fresh on my face.
Not a sound to be heard;complete silence,
Only the slight rattling of the rickety fence.
Natures divine of what beauty lies within,
More than a trillion crystal up above;all of same kin.
Diamonds,shimmering and glimmering in the dimly lit-up sky,
So many gleaming beauties,I wonder how high.
It was a childish and naive wonder,if I could hold one of these in my hand,
Or if on my doorstep,one day,a shooting star would land.
With my hands,I would clasp it tight,
Close my hands and wish with all my might.
They seem so minuscule,yet many are bigger than our Earth,
Some stars are now dying,yet some are still at birth.
What a wonder!I notice the shape of a bear.
I lean far out of my window,exuberant,the gust blowing my hair.
A bull and a scorpion!What shapes made by those pearls,
I gaze in awe as a glistening shooting star hurls.
But,oh heavenly bodies up above;what does thou truly mean,
They all say 'Souls of the Dead' of prophecies not unseen.
Oh scattered moon-dust,thy gleaming glow blinds my eyes,
From deeper within thy core and the truth that lies.
