Galaxies come and go as
You dressed us in
The softest light
A mirage of catastrophe
Bodes only in explosions
Of the finest silk
Borne from the solar
Winds of time

Walking these lands
We’ve enshrouded our
Selves in the golden breath
Of encapsulation
Like a thievery
In the colors of song
That base our clothing
Of love seen for eons by
The peoples of this place

This redress comes not
For us but consumes the
Afterlife of every star
Each nova seeking expulsion
Towards the proposition that
This splendor is our success
To be endowed with the
Beauty of eternity

© K. James Ribble