The explosion of an ancient rock
gives the birth to a whole new world.
A fleeting motion of a distant star, as it swirls in vacant space,
sprints along kingdoms in their rise and fall.
The little tilting of a sun unknown, bringing the death of a planet wide,
delivers the earth from collision course with the flocks of light.
Beneath the silver glow of a moon so near, eyes of blue fill up in thirst t’wards the light, towards the stars, and beyond the world. They wander freely in open wonder while weary others turn off their lights.
Within the blue, a hunger sweet feasts upon the remains of spark that erupts in flames the life it binds. It frisks and it whisks the fears and tears beyond the rye and far below.
The stars above with a winking glance, reflect the blue and fill it whole. They travel far and in their wake the dawning comes to a bright new day.
But eyes of blue of oceans rage against the motion of all things still. They cry as sleep comes rushing nigh, and above them weep the eyes of sky.
Now the eyes of blue of color deprived, in ashen grey beweep the times, where the December snows and July suns dance in fields of innocence vast.
The eyes of blue no longer fill, but empty gleam in tales of old. On they look toward the sun; and glance the glory of a bright new day.
Within the roll of the ancient rock, eyes of blue and green and colors dark, they wake and sleep, like clouds they drift, as suns and moons by them fly.
In words and whispers they bid farewell the lights that danced and stars that gleamed.
So up they look and around them come the flocks and choirs to take them home.