SHALL I really believe
that a shepherd rules the sky?
Or that stars collect each night
into celestial sheep?
As they wind to and fro,
my own life unfolds
in his star flock.
The newborn lamb,
cradled among fellow stars
caught in a milky haze,
coddles a boastful young ram,
refusing to be sheltered?
raising its hooves
and showing off its horns.
Another limps one leg,
while the last mourns
a broken horn
as stars lose their luster
along its waning coat.
And at last the dawn
leaves nothing to be done
but ponder a fate
sketched in starlight:
to depart from everything
as dust in a morning gale
Cedric Allen P. Sta. Cruz
