A starry dew falls on the Milky Way.

It’s night here, but the day is breaking there.

Some rare and precious thing they call a sun

Rises up through sighs and stares,

Illuminates the dusty pearls of matter

That coalesce in swirling masses of stuff

That may become a planet.

And like a violent storm,

The Milky Skirt twirls along the cosmos. 

Both centrifuge and centripetal,

It brings in energy and desires

And casts them out as dreams

Upon the beams of things 

That we call light.

And you may see an image there

Of your destiny,

And you may reach your fingers

Up into the night

And bring them back and taste them in your mouth,

Like candy spun with magic and poetry,

And delight yourself in the great power

Of being alive, tonight, in the universe.

-jenn