The night sky:
an avalanche of darkness.

The ripening stars:
splashes of light filled dust,
flying islands of burning souls,
frontiers at the beginning of coming to an end.

The Universe:
gleaming membrane of time, the eternal root system, seeded, peopled
with complicated plots, instants of separateness,
the made shapes of words and minutes pregnant with meaning;
where each of us is kept awake, is transmuted,
by the same laws, the same gyroscope of evolution;
where each is driven to fate, like driftwood,
by the certain currents of their own heart.