You can’t bury stars underground,
Or preserve this sight in sound;
Of Dawn blushing our quilted sky,
Lacing it with divine alchemy.

Eos blushes as she caresses
Earth with the hem of her dresses.
We trace the tangible crease of sunrise,
As the night peels away before our eyes.

She fashions a shroud of technicolour,
As the night dies a beautiful crescendo death.
And we lay mourning the night, another,
Waking up from stargazing on the heath.

We could have watched in awe for hours,
Counting the stars; Heaven’s and ours,
There was enough wonder in our eyes,
Enough fuel to write an ocean of lines.

God’s fingerprints for us all to see,
As he rolls up again his tapestry:
He repaints his canvas from black to blue,
The balm of light once more renewed.

We watched what can’t ever be said,
Only immortalised in my head
Like a stained glass window to the soul,
Heaven’s curtain descends before us all.

I’m trying to say how I cannot write
The size and breadth and depth that night;
My wonder suffocates my ink,
These words are not the words I think.

Decanting light into the darkness,
The birdsong chorus provides the anthem
To herald in our breathless thoughts:
What is man that you are mindful of him,
Mankind that you care for them?