We are just the

stars and scars in ancient skies

whose presence reveals the

lie that form and

function is not beauty,

myth and astronomy duly

offer a window into time

and govern our daily lives.

Eons ago the stars have died,

yet they rise each night

anew,

just the past within

our present, the ever emerging

resin that slowly seals

together each piece of our

uncertain history

as we gather up the fragments

and sew the stars

back into a pattern that

increases in familiarity

throughout our existence.

And their sky looked like our own.