Praised be You, my Lord, through Sister Moon and the stars; in the heavens, you have made them bright, precious and fair.
Twilight drops her curtain down, and pins it with a star.
Stars are holes in the sky, they are the light of Heaven coming from the other side.
Heaven trims our lamps while we sleep.
Yeah we all shine on, like the moon, and the stars, and the sun.
The sky takes on shades of orange during sunrise and sunset, the colour that gives you hope that the sun will set only to rise again.
One lamp — thy mother’s love — amid the stars Shall lift its pure flame changeless, and before The throne of God, burn through eternity - Holy — as it was lit and lent thee here.
Watching a peaceful death of a human being reminds us of a falling star; one of a million lights in a vast sky that flares up for a brief moment only to disappear into the endless night forever.
There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream.
Were a star quenched on high,For ages would its light,Still travelling downward from the sky,Shine on our mortal sight. So when a great man dies,For years beyond our ken,The light he leaves behind him liesUpon the paths of men.
The Hudson River lay flat and black like a lost evening glove. The clouds parted overhead as the distant moon threw a single, bright beam over lower Manhattan as though it were looking for its other half.
