By Mary Burns
Ancient light from the sky,
but seems new unto my eyes.
Traveling light years from afar,
what is the message from a star?
You’re older, wiser, please impart
your wisdom to this young upstart.
What knowledge can you give to me
who’s lived a scant half century?
Workings in the heavens deep,
secrets that all stars do keep.
They’ve existed time untold,
mysteries that will unfold.
The secrets, theirs to give or keep.
To find my way is what I seek.
At night to me the heavens call,
the stars come out as evening falls.
I look to them as for a cure
to soul’s unrest, to be made pure.
But they are nothing but a star,
for answers I need not look so far.
Layers like an onion skin,
secret answers lay within.