Heart of the Blazing Star
With my hand I reach
into my soul for the
heart of the blazing
star.
Glowing fiercly bright
in my palm.
I hold it in front
of me.
A symbol of my strength
and courage
and my resolve to do
what is right.
There is a tarnish
to it,
A small imperfection to
live with.
To the other side of the
shutters is the
wrongness that grows.
I look out and see among
the darkness
the red stars
that must not be.
Let fly my heart of the
blazing star!
As I throw to
the blackness.
Though as imperfect you are
I hope you do your best.
And in a flash of brilliant
blues and whites
The red stars turn to
their bluish-white
perfection.
One by one it begins to
multiply.
To leave my heart out there
is to invite a chance of
imperfection,
Enough to where the heart
may not want me back.
So with all my strength I
summon the heart back
and catch it in my palm.
The tarnish is still there
but with its' presence
it's much more effective.
I put it away my heart
of the blazing star
so that it may be used again.
