Clues

The night sky is a chandelier
That’s covered with fingerprints,
Our minds can’t grasp infinity,
But starlight leaves us hints—

The roses shine like drops of blood
And leave a crimson trail,
So all who follow their deductions
May find the Holy Grail—

The sleuths examining a soul
May swipe God’s DNA;
The clues all point to one conclusion:
That love is on display.