when we hear stars

when we hear stars
we think backlit pinholes
on black velvet and we wonder
what lies beyond the smooth surface
of the finite expanding universe

other nights we think
star wombs pregnant with iron
giving birth to planet children
like a fusion of mass and energy
unbounded  by love’s strange topologies

About Ray Sharp

Poet, athlete, retired public health planner
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3 Responses to when we hear stars

  1. This one really got to me. I saw the stars from the Kitt Peak, Arizona in winter…the atmosphere was so clear, they did not twinkle, in reds, blues, amber, white. You put words to what I could not say.

  2. Reblogged this on Let it come from the heart and commented:
    This is fantastic imagery. I can see the stars as I read, on a clear night, each a new place of mystery and wonder.

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