The Silk of Rebels

They often cascade from a creator's mind those shooting stars in a black shawl night. Some are light years afar, others frightfully close some are dullened - forever scarred. Others sashay through life as sequined ghosts. Some are connected-in mental constellation. Some are vagabond pebbles in space and time Some kiss the mouths of packs of devils Some dwell alone in black thought desolation Some are candelabra in heavenly eyes Donning saintly rags-some, the silk of rebels.