The Grand Convergence

As eight,

at leisure

the spin,

the silent dance.

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'Round they

go, what law

hath choreographed

in its elegance.

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Patterns,

testimony to

the delicate

hand of space.

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A hush

as the orbs come

to the light,

slow.

-------------------

The fog

is now

departed

with the dawn.

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Heart and

sol, a sling

of bliss into

the cosmic mass.

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Among them,

lords and kings,

gods and goddesses,

humble stones.

-------------------

In the vastness

one could scarcely

catch such

a performance.

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But alas,

there it stands,

defiant of all,

joyful in doing.