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

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