Great Ball of Fire

The Trial of Galileo - Wikimedia Commons

But what would Galileo say,

arrested by theology,

that global viewpoint not sustained -

heliocentric here to stay?

When he looked, others’ setting sun,

he saw that rolling earth had won,

philosophy of central fire,

this planet merely satellite.

Yet wonder full, elliptical -

as Kepler later told the whole -

no less what human’s saw from home,

the glories, so called, setting sun.

That fall of Phoebus, classic view,

threw russet through to scarlet hue,

while shepherds reckoned weather’s call

by palette, rising, falling sky.

No longer ‘our’ sun, set in stone -

but alien to core creed known;

a first step into outer space

at least in minds closed to debate.

‘There’s nothing new’, so untrue, bland,

for under’s where now hides are tanned -

though factor in to hide our skin -

our gods unlike ancients’ divine.

Here’s artistry and poetry,

a metaphor, emotion’s cry,

so much expressed through even’s glow

whatever science - earthlings’ need.

At end of day horizon’s clouds -

the outlook scene, dominion shrouds;

but when it’s seen, flame aurum seas,

then troubles die, an epilogue.

So celebrate the eve’s display,

a canvas for the craft of art,

but question what on earth portrayed,

distracting from grim swill of ills.

Why does this great ball so attract

that fiery fall, sea column stacked,

as if a rainbow, pot of gold,

the treasure, human eyes behold?