A rotating disk of gas and dust
Swirling for millennia
Separating into pieces
Slowly coming together
Into smaller and smaller
Chunks of material.
They violently collide with each other
Turning up the heat
The sun ignited.
It peered out from behind her dusty veil into the dark
With its red hot face.
It watched the carnage and violence of the meteors.
As they collided,
Sparks flew out into the emptiness
Then rained down among the
Slowly things calmed down
Out of many millions of pieces,
The sun has a new collection of gems.
Dusting them off with stellar winds
She admired them
Tilting them one way
Then the other.
Some were blue.
Some were dark.
A few were golden.
To go with the gems, the sun sported a metallic necklace.
She smiled brightly
At the work of the cosmic blacksmith.
Visitors from the neighborhood sometimes grew tails as they passed through.
They weep with joy at the wonderful jewelry the sun has.
New changes will happen in this part of the cosmos.
The great millennia have shown themselves to be good artisans and architects.
We must thank the prime architect,
The cosmic blacksmith,
Mysterious in all his ways.
Without whom the lesser ones wouldn’t have accomplished these things.