Reflect

Every time we gather ourselves,
We ponder whether fresh matter
Lies here, or just a light echo

Expanding from an earlier
Flash, reflecting off ambient
Dust from one authentic burst.

There are so many, many stars
That supernovas tick like clocks,
Rare as they are, whereas echoes

Of light off a complex array
Of interstellar matter are
Comparatively rarer still,

Given there’s no explanation
Yet for the original flash.