Super Nova (2)

I wrote two versions of this poem. I wasn't sure which one I liked more.

There was no warning for her end. One day she stood as tall as the rest, her skin illuminated by the moon, her Irises shined with mirth. She was like the mist that descended on rainy twilights; cool yet terrifying. No one, not even her closest friends, saw the explosion. Not until they were blinded by its light. She was a star dying in the night sky, guiding us along our way. She was a supernova buried deep in the galaxy. Far from the reach of us mere specs of dirt. When she shouted her last hurrah, we thought nothing but of the beauty of her sound, how the light reflected across the sky. It wasn't until much too late, until she burned down to nothing. We didn't know anything until we peered in her jar and saw our forever burning candle had run out of wick and wax.