‘stars are sometimes born in the midst of chaos’
I lay on my back for half a century,
believing the universe to be a quiet place,
still, steady, constant;
the sun, its brightest sphere.
Static nights, spent on the cool, brown earth,
gravity pinning me to feather-green blades,
breath held, so as not to ripple the cosmos
and blow away the stars.
But now you tell me it is chaos out there,
that Orion’s Belt is full of stellar nurseries;
collapsing clouds of gas and dust,
pockets of space jettisoning new life
into a glittering sky full of
and percussive solar winds;
a symphony of energy and light.
Here, as we commune
beneath the inky coverlet of night;
binary stars orbiting our shared passions,
you show me Carina Nebula;
four million times more luminous
than the solitary sun,
and finally I can breathe
without fear of scattering the stars.