Marking The Sky

Few landmarks, or skymarks, and those mobile
in the terrain of the heavens.
Small, yet bright,
sun & moon, stars & planets,
zodiacal constellations pivot
with polished, imperceptible grace.
(swath of white sweeping past by season)
Marking days, and nights, and spots on the horizon,
sealed with piles of earth.
From mound to mound, an arc traced
only through time, moment by moment nearly still,
season by season flung back and forth.

When you let go the solid grip of time
and drift through those movements and cycles,
there is a new apparent stability,
a steadiness in motion,
a glimpse of inescapable absolutes
even harder to see and feel
than an orbit or equatorial band.
Visible, all the same;
contained within every sunrise,
and each starlit, moonpierced dusk.