Disasters* in the Sun

Stars burn out flawlessly,
One long fusion-fission fizzle,
Like a sigh,
A universal "Me-oh-my,"
That lights a billion years,
The monotone, you might say,
Of the spheres,
Singularly harmonious,
Effortless,
Easeful,
Perfect,
As far as we can say.
Not much can go astray.
At any rate it takes awhile
To unstar any star,
Made in their Maker's image
As they are.

        * An aster is a fallen star.
        A poem is a fallen flower.
        A maker has a certain power.
        His image pleases in its hour,
        But then he's a disaster,
        A fizzled poetaster.