remembering tropic night

what we have in this city is not real night
the lights outside guide feet but hide the stars
i can make out the colours of parked cars
but not the milky way that creamy light
stretching across the sky creating a huge bight
empty in contrast with what seem small scars
of brilliance against silky black or reddish mars
aloft at deepest dark truly divine in might
or venus on horizon at fresh dawn
proclaiming coming of the sun's new reign
like a bright sapphire in the morning sky
each luminary seeming the airy spawn
of a great power one who would not in vain
proclaim a sacrifice or falseness sanctify