watchman

The stars are scattered in the farthest reaches,
Hidden from the eye of man.
Unable to align and unable to explode,
Stars are the holes in the universe at our fingertips.

Fables and Fairytales revolving around them,
The celestial brilliance rings mythical—
Untouched by hands, but there.
Present—always—and there.

Offering protection for the brave heart to ask of,
Guardians of Heaven’s construction of nature,
Unrelenting in their magnificence,
The fine flicker is always there.

What man can destroy or rebuild is his business.
The earth’s core remains unscathed.
The true beauty of gardens, beneath the ground,
Lies hidden in the roots.

Springs and caverns dwell beneath us,
Hidden from the hands of men.
Majestic even to seek to behold,
Although secluded to the blind.
And yet—they are staring us in the face.

While man may erase the radiant greens
Or mask the reds behind grays,
Above, there is fire—
Alive in the heavens.
Past cloud, beyond planets,
The Wonders are safe.
No effort of man may take precedence over—
The efforts of God—his construction of nature.

And though they remain shrouded in mystery,
They are clear to those who dare to look.
To the watcher’s of the night-time sky,
They are lucid and concrete and at hand.