Poetry collection

Dark sky dance

When ink organza is drawn o’er the sky

Bedecked with many aged brilliants

Fluttering down their reflected light.

Then with vision raw and clear,

Do they whirl and dance o’er head,

In spinning pattern as once Vincent saw.

And beyond the horizon they go,

Heedless of the small silent watcher.

Stilled for just one moment,

On the surface of one of their number.

The lights that sparkle in between

Darkling infinity and gaudy reality

Speak of man’s progress, if it can be so called.

The quest to go find out how and why

Man is, the planets are and when all came to be.

Stood on the thin shifting crust of fragility,

Not looking where he place his feet,

Man views all he can and yet sees nothing.

Dissecting frond and firmament alike,

Until the gods themselves need hide.

Such progress does not change the soul,

It does not step in time with all around.

Yet heedless does the dance go on,

As though man were but nought,

And all the probing inquisitiveness,

Is less than the intrusion of a gnat’s sigh,

Upon the ear and is gone as quick.

Watch the dance with wondering eyes,

Seek not to fully understand,

Mankind will be o’er ere it is done.