The
Pleiades Fell To Earth
Such
bright and sparkling light,
so many
crystalline fragments of stellar blue and white
fell to
earth last night.
A
Standard Explosion lit up the sky
with all
the guaranteed thrill and skill of a brilliant
and
divine symphonic orchestrion.
I
searched the midnight sky for my sisters.
Had they
rushed from their snug sorority,
their
exclusive solidarity,
to blast
my struggling planet with their fierce and searing fire?
Where had
those shimmering siblings chosen to land?
Were they
lying simmering hotly on the sands
of the
indifferent Nile?
Or did
their splendid spangles spin and twirl
around
the hurly-burly of Pigalle’s pavements,
landing
unnoticed on the arrondissment
of
vibrant and hedonistic life?
But I
wanted them to land on me.
I wished
for a crown of fire to illuminate
my
humdrum life, my tiresome, tedious and strife-driven
existence
of work and care and sorrow and conscience-driven
daily
grind.
I wished
for some scintillating spark to ignite my
despairing
mind.
I wished
for the inspiration
of some
other-worldly, super-human
and
intuitive woman
to fill
me with hope and understanding.
Tonight I
look up at the midnight sky.
I sigh.
My seven
sisters.
They are
still there to comfort.
They
never fell at all.
