Acquarius

Not a zodiac, a funeral pyre,
Sun and moon wheels of the same fire,
My star passed once and then not at all,
And it passed raggedly, like the fall.

But to have dreamt Aquarius
Pouring water from space
Was to see stars flowing down
A celestial waterfall, to sacred ground.

If there’s no fate in constellations,
No destiny in revelations,
All apostles tell the same lie,
The resurrection of a false sky.

There is in the blackness, fire.
It is all we can decipher,
That and the orbital motions
Of sun and moon on our living oceans.