The spinning earth and stationary stars,
a quarter trillion strong, are nightly fare
for lovers of this galaxy that's ours.
Into its depths, one's soul can only stare.
Each star's a host for planets large and small,
with moons and all, and only God know what.
No religion sounds a purer call
to raise the sinner from his wretched rut.
From suckling babies, whom each mom adored,
we walked those channels where our lives played out.
Then, on our broken knees, implored the Lord
to lift our load and save us from a rout.
And though we felt betrayed from where we bled,
the universe loomed infinite, instead.