In the minute birthplace of many stars,
A dazzlingly glowing blob of gas
Expels gusts of matter, blasts out scars
And hides luminaries in the dense mass.
Arc-shaped features are found within this scene;
bow-shocks rejuvenate faster than sound
as bursts of short vertical arcs careen
turbulently. Blue and red flares rebound
into violent filaments of pink.
Comma shaped jets curve into long streamers,
swimming in a mist of hydrogen ink.
Only the astronomers and dreamers
see the havoc caused on this exalted scale
where stars are born behind a gauze-like veil.
I saw this picture in the blog of @badastronomer , AKA Phil Plait, who writes for Discover Magazine. I knew I had to write a poem about this. This was written in 2011. It’s amazing that we can see stars being born, and understand that this is what we are seeing.