rejoining the cosmic dust

 Star systems by Clive James ©

The stars in their magnificent array

Look down upon the Earth, their cynosure

The stars in their magnificent array

 Or so it seems. They are too far away,

In fact, to see a thing; hence they look pure

To us. They lack the textures of our globe,

So only we, from cameras carried high,

Enjoy the beauty of the swirling robe

That wraps us up, the interplay of sky

And cloud, as if a Wedgwood plate of blue

And white should melt, and then, its surface stirred

With spoons, a treasure too good to be true,

Be placed, and hover like a hummingbird,

Drawing all eyes, though ours alone, to feast

On splendor as it turns west from the East.

 There was a time when some of our young men

Walked plumply on the moon and saw Earth rise,

As stunning as the sun. The years since then

Have aged them. Now and then somebody dies.

 It’s like a clock, for those of us who saw

The Saturn rockets going up as if

 Mankind had energy to burn.

The law Is different for one man.

Time is a cliff You come to in the dark.

Though you might fall As easily as on a feather bed,

It is a sad farewell. You loved it all.

You dream that you might keep it in your head.

But memories, where can you take them to?

Take one last look at them. They end with you.

And still the Earth revolves, and still the blaze

Of stars maintains a show of vigilance.

It should, for long ago, in olden days,

We came from there. By luck, by fate, by chance,

All of the elements that form the world

Were sent by cataclysms deep in space,

And from their combination life unfurled

And stood up straight, and wore a human face

I still can’t pass a mirror. Like a boy,

I check my looks, and now I see the shell

Of what I was. So why, then, this strange joy?

Perhaps an old man dying would do well

To smile as he rejoins the cosmic dust (emphasis added)

Life comes from, for resign himself he must.