Wandering Stars

Wandering stars, to whom is reserved the blackness of darkness for ever.
-St Jude

The nucleus of a comet is a ‘dirty snowball’ of ices and dust.
- Fred Whipple, US astronomer (1906-2004)

Snowballs melt in the grottoes of the gods
And ringing memories that are mine go home
To their kingdom. These are the lessons of the darkness
Where whose homing memories bell and burn
And the stars are the gods till the stars will not return.

Beat, beat down the door that will not open
To its threshold: the iron door of the stolen dream.
To the dawns of the deserted, comet dust
Has drifted. Cradled memory’s eminence must
For dreamt creation burn out like a star
And all of our dreams be molecular.

Wandering stars, for whom is reserved the blackness
Of darkness for ever, your cradling grottoes lie
In wait till these gods and their snowball homings die,
And stolen dreams are gone with doors that will not open.