Ode to the Stars

(A Hymn of Celestial Semantics)

The Jewels of night draw roaming sight to higher places,

Where, if one would look, sheer curiosity assumed on wondrous faces,

There could be seen variations so sublime in choice,

As to affirm the brute reality of individual voice.

For, though gazing upwards, each the same design beholden,

Some see twinkling silver, others blue and green, and others golden.

And, conferring even with what conclusion each has divined, clever

      Drawn,

After all, imaginations varied, each conception varied Spawn.

      Spawn.

So, that even when related each opinion was beheld,

Though convergence seems alluring, in the end, each vision varied,

      Never could the varied visions weld.

But, as many as there are the stars, there are many choices too,

Of interpreting the stars, as drops of many dew.

In what I see as sparkling, you may graciously agree,

But, in agreement, no more the darkling, you simply nod,

      But saw a tree!

Were I to look, you sight to see, my sparkling eyes in your

      Great oak,

I surely would remember fast how agreement is a joke.

That try, we may, communicating, the same issues to avail,

Perhaps, we seem to be relating, but illusion doth prevail.

And, though extreme my model profits, to assist my modeled end,

I affirm, in this remaining, at it’s essence I portend.

So, if ever gazing upwards, I dimension’s depth doth see,

As orbs ablaze distending, near, and distant galaxy,

And, you a blackened blaket, brightly pierced across the sky,

Lacking depth but ever cosmic, legitimate as any eye,

We would offer in that moment, redeeming hearts our offering,

Of the chance of our perception, different hymns, I chance, we’d sing.

But, again, in ready sharing, to assist the other’s grasp,

Of what the other found, the noble effort to unclasp,

Again, I say and once again, each his own understanding bring.

And, at last, indeed I see in concord of description,

That what depictions we afford, may marry well diverse prescription

Of that message to convey to the other’s ready mind,

Adamant in rendering there what so lovely we did find.

But, amiss in seeking such, as direct and total meaning,

For again, indeed again, indeed, each heart has different leaning,

So best that we can do is a story that is told,

To alight a kindred spirit in evidence of something bold,

Or even precious as the stars, gem’s imagination grand,

As imagination forms each fiery distant land,

Or as gentle as a child, “twinkle, twinkle, little” sight,

Stars delight, and that’s enough, stars delight,

                                                                  Stars delight…