An Explanation

 

It should come as no surprise to anyone

that day should end and night should come,

as winter follows fall, and the fields turn black

or white, as the season freezes the earth.

 

Even the stars must burn out and die,

snuffed like cinders in the lampblack sky.

 

From starstuff we arise, and to the sky

we rise again, even as we are buried,

like seeds, in hopes of a resurrection

or burned, hearkening to our astral origin.

 

Even the earth falls back to the sun,

and the sun rises and falls into itself, a stillquiet corpse.

 

It should come as no surprise to anyone

that a stargazer should feel no fear

ascending as she descends

stillquiet and singing.