Sitara

The Star

Is it the moon's fear, or the peril of the dawn, that haunts you? Have you received some news of beauty's final fate?

Do you fear your treasure of light will be plundered away, Or dread annihilation, like a spark that lives but for a day?

The heavens gave you a home, far from the earth below, And like the moon, bestowed on you a robe of gold.

How astonishing, then, that your fragile soul takes fright, And you pass, all in a tremble, through the long, dark night.

O shining traveler! This dwelling is a curious place, Where the rise of one is founded on another's fall from grace.

The death of countless stars is the birth of the morning sun; In the sleep of oblivion, the ecstasy of life is won.

In the bud's farewell lies the secret of the flower's creation; Is Non-existence nothing, or the mirror of all Existence?

In Nature's great workshop, stillness has no domain; For Permanence itself belongs to Change's endless reign.