blue notes for old red stars

In deep sky a trance unfolds,
a dance of ancient light;
tomorrow's rains gather
to cloak the portal to mystery
so much as in life, they do not stay.

Patient lights of an endless reach
teach me again, how delicate and small
is this form of man, how God-like the gift
of imagining.

Creation in  Six sharp notes
rest on the Seventh
as a cascade of creations
seize the front of the mind,
make blue notes for old red stars.

Making the world I would see
through eyes closed  in peace
where All value the need to bring
closeness to purpose- and know
the purpose of life, is abundant life.

Deep in the night, I cut away
the clouds that pass between
things we see and that which can be...
it is a time to swirl with galaxies unborn
and consider the virtue of a wistful tear.