Cynosure

Stellar flames create formations,

Lucent constellations and invitations to the expeditious mind

Novas that see our destination

From their hibernation, a vocation that is enshrined

I'm navigating along the star path

The night sky is my compass, my cynosure

After days with waves of wrath

I'm finally reaching the shores

Under the burning Atlas

A region filled with flaring birthmarks

Over ageing landmarks and the hallmarks of Nature's grand form

Yonder, still in our respiration

And mother to rotation, gravitation that endlessly performs