The Night Sky Poem by Thomas Hooker

Lost in aesthetics are the words,
showered on a jeweled canopy of light,
where luminous stars listen patiently.

Outside fireflies hang in the air,
a child races back through nightfall,
remembering the way they smelled.

It's far too fast, faster than any starlight,
faster than the times we've turned,
sparks float skyward from the embers.

To begin again, growing out of ash
the seeds left behind shape existence,
knowing well, we are young strangers here.