Shooting Stars Poem by Mark Heathcote

Shooting Stars enter and vanish in the sky
join the Milky Way and then die
the world is a prismatic window
ever-evolving, ever-changing
sometimes eventful, other times fragmental,
nothing you can hold firm for certain.
Nothing you can call your own,
every whispered wish is a hurricane cut adrift.
Emptying its heart spinning in the dark.
Till a shooting star is embedded like a spark
and ignites the firmament, the atmosphere
and your soul
rather than vanishing is a burning sphere.