Long-sighted Sun, since macrocosm's first dawn,
stands still yet searches, with deep, powerful eyes,
in every galaxy of far, with inextinguishable hope.
Shy nymphal Earth, in her veil of atmosphere,
whirls on her tracks, with her pristine heart- the moon,
held out- up and high, with utmost truth, offering all.
Their curse of creation- differing compositions,
and coordinates, and circuits, and constrains;
all script their rendezvous- to an asymptotic act.
On rarest of occasions, when collinear they eye,
Eclipse dooms- every held expression meant to fly
and black tears of Meteorites, all around, silently fall.