Eleven at night,
I look at the heavens;
glitter fills my sight
with angles and demons.
I ask a star,
what’s your kind ?
it twinkles beyond par,
asking me to find.
I sight the Betelgeuse,
the glowing red gaint;
it’s resting at peace
like an elevated saint.
I look out for Sirius,
the queen of white dwarfs;
her looks are mysterious
with electrons as her scarfs.
Now, I search the invisible,
I search the event horizon,
I fail to sight the incredible,
to realize Einstein’s reason.
Should I thank my eye,
for this spectacular show ?
or should I thank the sky
for her ever lasting glow ?
