Shooting Stars Poem by Mark. A 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, it is a burning sphere.