The stars they sleep on cosmic shores
Beneath solar waves, in eternal fall.
Old photographs are all we ever see
Flashes of undeveloped artistry.
...
Illuminate
The stars they sleep on cosmic shores
Beneath solar waves, in eternal fall.
Old photographs are all we ever see
Flashes of undeveloped artistry.
Van Gogh may blur in abstract ways
Peeking through a celestial haze.
A mother may stir a lullaby
For her baby, to question why.
But surely the beauty of them
And majesty they behold,
Is that we may see the past set alight
The dark, the lost, the cold.