Vast the stars, yet each has its own glory, A beauty and a passion all its own. Let love lend its grace to every story, Each star that lives and dies, but not alone. Nor does the love that kindled the Creation, That is what is, with neither start nor end, In every heart an inborn conflagration, Need to tell its light to homeward bend. Enduring love embraces greater love. 'Mid time it finds a timeless inner longing, Sense that would to ancient rhythms move, Dancing to the music of belonging. As all are made of love, and for delight, You are my love, the glory of my night.