Fire of Stars

It is well before the dawn and the moon,
long ago, slip slid quietly away,
leaving glowering stars barely winkling
behind the black rage of thunder head clouds.
In the great beyond these stars, fuming fuel,
burn brilliant, lighting up their galaxies,
but here, among these planets we call home,
they seem benign, harmless, and far away.
Light years of distance separate us all,
so we do not feel their awful burning,
nor their bright day warmth. Not good or evil,
they are small white blinks in a midnight sky.
Here beneath, we wrestle with ramping clouds,
though rainbows promise there will be no flood,
no catastrophic downpour cascading
over all we know. No endless floating
on wooden rafts till all is drowned and dead.
Still, we only see this closer danger.
We study clouds, ignore the falling stars
Cataclysmic infernos surely come.
All will burn to nothing in white hot flame.
On that great day, only what lasts remains.
So why do we fear the dark’ning storm clouds,
when it is collapsing stars that kill us?