Night-Time Gazing

night-time pine

Night-time gazing overhead

puts daily turmoil into place,

inky depths on silken thread

define the infinite of space;

and while my tears in silence fall,

I am but one on cosmic plane;

galaxies count such sorrows small –

I am but single link in chain.

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From Where I Sit

From where I sit, above the  earth,

I see the way the threads weave through

the tapestry; each knot and stitch

is planted with a plan in view.

When down below, my eyes don’t sense

the way the Artist plots and schemes;

the colours clash, the pattern fights

against itself in rowdy seams.

But if I lift my gaze aloft,

appraise the whole from ladder height,

my heart is thrilled to see the plan

that weaves me in, with threads of light.