The stars are a stravage of solar light,
Whose strands of extraterrestrial stars,
Are spat from far suns into eyes at night.
What past has passed away from those afar,
Who's seen the twinkles sprinkled in the black?
Does our sun seep into eyes on planets,
Beyond Earth's evening worn when light does lack?
Does water wash other shores of granite,
On spots spinning round a larger spun spot?
Our own star is but the stravage of light,
Round and round with what else its orbit caught.
Spat great distances at another night.
Where eyes do gaze from their orbital planes,
To see what in us no longer remains.
Categories:
stravage, life, light, sky, stars,
Form: Sonnet