The sight of stars…

2018 has been a year of creative stretch for this particular fool. I’ve found myself increasingly invited to write and perform pieces of spoken word and poetry and, for someone who has never quite understood the realms of the poetic, it has been a good discipline to develop. In 2019 I think I’d like to explore the rules of poetry more, so look out for a collection of sonnets by the end of the year! In the meantime, here’s something I wrote for a few Christmas events this week.

Vincent Van Gogh said, “For my part I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream.” We live in volatile, uncertain times, but there is mystery deeper than the certainties we cling to. Angels, prophecies, dreams, stars all speak of truth that is complex. As ever, if you’d like to use it publicly, I’m happy for you to do so in its entirety and with credit to me as the writer, Fiona Stewart (the Creative Fool). Wishing you all a very peaceful, joyful, love-filled Christmas.

The Sight of The Stars Always Makes Me Dream

Stables and sheep are easy to grasp

Tangible

Solid

Objects held fast by gravity strong

And history told

Of that place far away,

That story of old.

 

Like donkeys and inns with straw-covered mangers

where babies are laid in the presence of strangers

There’s a sense of the right

A shout of the known

The coming of light in this hay-lined throne.

It all makes sense

And so we embrace

This space

This moment when

rhythm and rhyme

Break step

And eternity slides into time.

 

But

Of angels and starlight

Prophecies

Dreams

We fear to rush in

Lest we travel beyond where everything seems

Logical

Sensible

Explicable

Right

 

Yet

 

In a moment apart

Gazing up

Heart undistracted

Away from the clamour and unending noise

Comes mysterious whisper to feel and rejoice

For the sight of the stars always makes me dream

Dream of further and deeper

Of something beyond

Of wise men and prophets

In star-gazing bond

Of hope that won’t stop at what’s known.

 

For knowledge transcendent

Is deeper than doubt

And hope that goes further

Demands that we shout

He is here

He has come.

 

The sight of the stars always makes me dream

Of something beyond

Of his presence unseen

Where logic and certainty

Both find their place

within the Eternal

Full of truth, full of grace.

 

And the sight of the stars is a glimpse of the more

A tear in the canopy, half-opened door

A beacon of hope in the darkness around

A whisper so tender that a way can be found.

 

And stables, and shepherds

Donkeys and inns

Have their place in this story of God breaking in

To the dirt, to the desperate, sad and the bleak

And the lost and the troubled, the humble and meek

But the sight of the stars

And the prophecies spoken

The stories of angels

Are mysterious tokens

Of promise and hope and a Saviour alive.

 

And the sight of the stars is a glimpse of the more

A tear in the canopy, half-opened door

A beacon of hope in the darkness around

A whisper so tender that a way can be found

 

And

 

In a moment apart

Gazing up

Heart undistracted

Away from the clamour and unending noise

Comes mysterious whisper to feel and rejoice.

 

© Foolproof Creative Arts 2018

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