Oh dear, . . . after posting this, Marion my best critic, says the poem makes no sense. I am going to have another go. I often go back in and tweak poems after first posting them, which is part of the intended use of the blog, but this one needs a major overhaul.
(I need a second chance.) :-)
The billowing stars with beards alight
emit a moment's splurge in flight
to tuck and twist a human code
a second’s chance
in quantum corridors of script
discrete, this tiny tick of time with
seventy times seven
to forgive and be forgiven.