Fire in the Heavens Words by John C. Bunnell © 2003 TTTO Slane (Irish traditional; cf. "Be Thou My Vision")Fire in the heavens, each morning does rise, From dawn until twilight traversing the skies; He who approaches too closely may learn That wings made of waxwork are likely to burn. Fire in the heavens, observed in the night, A portent of chaos or mere streak of light? Stroke of a paintbrush, a sky-spanning line Invites us to seek for a larger design. Fire in the heavens, a rocket’s red glare Lets earthbound folk scatter bright sparks in the air; Arrows aimed upward, they mark out a way For humans to follow as soon as we may. Fire in the heavens, a cool silver sphere Where flagpole and footprints will ne’er disappear; One tiny footstep and one giant leap; More stepping-stones beckon, in starlight’s great deep. Fire in the heavens, where no fire should be, A shortcut unplanned into eternity; Still somewhere burning, beyond mortal sight, The souls of the dreamers are cloaked now in light. Fire in the heavens, afire in the heart; Where two flames commingle, set neither apart; Though they may guide us on paths yet unknown, Outward and onward, we’ll not be alone.