Dreams of the Stars

I wonder, sometimes,
What those faraway stars do,

In their own little dreamtime,
As they gaze through
Gossamer
Filmed
Eyes.

Maybe, then, they watch us,
Maybe, just because
God
Made them that Way.

To remind us

And see what
We mortals are doing.

Down
The
Steps
Of time.

They are
Always peering down, through
Sleepy, yet
Watchful,
Sad,
Weary eyes.

Cheering, and then sighing,
As they see a king being just to his people,
Or a bird
Falling from
Its nest,

Hearing, then crying,
When they hear the
Speech of
Evil men,
Or the sound of a
Poor,
Lost widow’s
Sob.

Scorn, then smiling,
When the hidden deeds
Of night
Give way to
The blessed gift
Of day-Light.

Hate, then laugh,
When they see
Injustice done,
And then when
The
Oppression is
Overthrown.

On their silent thoughts
Go on,
Day,
By day,
Year,
By year
Age
By age.

Until He comes again,
To call
The Stars
Home,

To let them
Close their eyes
One
Last,
Time,

And to be glad,
For their Kindler
Is glad
With their
Watching.

And then,
Forever more

Be oblivion.