May 8, 2016

The Scar on Heaven’s Face

acometpasses.jpg

Whose will decreed this scar on sky
Would glaze our night with sunstruck ice?
Whose Plan determines stones' decline
To sand, or shapes the stars' dark lore,
Or how our very continents
Drift effortless upon the core,

Or that we mark, as clever beasts,
The passing haze of comet's swoosh,
That we, the glaze of thought on flesh,
May see Who made the Plan at all?

I know, I know...no plan at all
Is thought by some to be the Plan.
And yet, and yet ...what is this thought
That seems to measure more than man?

Look not deep in but far afield,
Beyond the limits of our sight,
It cannot be that all that is
Is all but night on deeper night.

But if night should be all that is,
And all as purposeless as stones,
The heart still sings the body's chants
And moves His light within our bones.

Perhaps this pattern that we know
As sunlight seen between two lights
Is but some dance cast to amuse
What lies beyond our blinded sight.

Yet what dark mind could gain a gram
Of pleasure from such clumsy turns,
Instead of reading evil writ
In war’s cold countenance of burns?

The countenance of comets
That the sky at night assumes
Is faced with such equations
As replicate the blooms
Of fruit trees forced to flower
On a continent of tombs.

But to stand within a meadow
And mark the waves of wind
Is ample compensation
For the Gift the days rescind.

At length our modern marvels
Are but blots of haze on slate
That we note with small attention
As we dance between the gates,

And step to some faint music,
Along the path of day's retreat,
Our ancient, ageless minuet
That rounds our sleep with sleep.

Posted by gerardvanderleun at May 8, 2016 10:07 AM
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That we, the glaze of thought on flesh,

Oh!

Posted by: Joan of Argghh! at May 8, 2016 1:02 PM

As John Denver would say, "Far out, Vanderleun, far out!"

Posted by: Jimmy J. at May 8, 2016 4:32 PM

Comet Donati, IIRC.

Posted by: Ray Van Dune at May 8, 2016 9:24 PM