03-10-2013, 03:18 AM
They say the stars owe everything to chance,
That no set fate has fixed them in their place.
That Chaos governs how they hang askance;
No rhyme or reason writ in outer space.
But when we let our eyes run through the skies
To dance amidst this resting place of giants.
In seeing circles, supershapes and lines,
Disorders winking back at us defiant.
Orion’s ribboned waist looks too precise.
In each perfect portioned shining point.
A mighty tour de force of fire and ice
Of geometric symmetry, adroit.
Perhaps just atoms dancings all it is;
These half unuttered words and promises.
That no set fate has fixed them in their place.
That Chaos governs how they hang askance;
No rhyme or reason writ in outer space.
But when we let our eyes run through the skies
To dance amidst this resting place of giants.
In seeing circles, supershapes and lines,
Disorders winking back at us defiant.
Orion’s ribboned waist looks too precise.
In each perfect portioned shining point.
A mighty tour de force of fire and ice
Of geometric symmetry, adroit.
Perhaps just atoms dancings all it is;
These half unuttered words and promises.