The Mystery

The planets wheel
Deep  black cushions
Seal them in Eternity's
Slow  moving push,
Purple and gold embers
Of  the dark spark their
Circular paths in silence, in cold
They  turn, they turn
Real slow -
See the red barn bright
See the glow
From  their long tails
The  pivoting on giant
Wheels  they seal our days
In where
There is no breathing -
A  large brass gyroscope
A  plaything
For  some large King
On  a throne of gold
He  looks down
And   sighs as he
Sees  our yellows, greens,
He  lights the dark between
Each  spreading turning
Queen  brushing
Night with her  soft hand.
See the purple embers
Crumble,  see the gold
Sparks' transience as the
Spheres  track by
Greater  than you or I.
Look  up  at the night sky.
Be  mystified.

previous poem