He was made of silver filigree,
drifting through the sky.
His hair a sea anemone
wafting, though was dry.
his fingers shivered, long and warm
scared to touch the sun
he missed his chance; the sun went down
and marked the day as done.
he was delicate, emotional,
at least, was from afar
but up close he was a raw
exploding, burning, shining star.
the filigree was waves of heat
and burnt the naked eye
and his sea anemone hair
extended brightly through the sky.
A beautiful and powerful
and awe-inspiring sight
he was meek and quiet in the day
but was gorgeous in the night.