late tidings

a sun that never sets,
a star that never dies.

distant gazes gush along
the paths of lightbeams,
soliloquizing aloud in the pale dawn glow.

rapture, in tightly controlled
free-flowing contours;
muscles twitch and heave,
and the face smiles.

eyes reflect the morning mist,
even as they penetrate it.
the world is sleeping, still,
but the dark dissolves as the seconds fly by.

the skies fade to soft pastels -
warm buttercups and velvet roses,
and the fields of flowers are suddenly
washed in blue brilliance.

spherical salvation,
ultimate proof of a new day,
a renewal of the cycle of life.

news of a nova takes lightyears
to hit home.