A while back the moon put on a special dance. It rose in conjunction with two planets, which I in my ignorance thought were two bright stars—a sickle moon opening its face to a couple of bright, colourful planets. I looked for it again the next night but the clouds decided I had seen enough, and they closed the curtains.
Lord, you paint the skies with such large strokes.
The moon, in astronomical terms, a mere stone’s throw away;
the nearest star so remote that the terms we use on earth to measure distance have no meaning.
Except in the dreams of science fiction,
we cannot hope to visit even the closest reaches of our galaxy,
let alone the galaxies beyond our own.
Yet we can enjoy the panorama of the heavens:
A restless, multi-coloured dome in the daylight,
and a magnificent display in the night, ensconced in an inky blackness
that protects us from unfathomable depths, and the horror of nothingness.
On earth, close by yet unseen and beyond reach,
immeasurable wonders we are only now beginning to uncover;
hidden in unexplored crevices that scar the floors of the oceans,
loitering in inhospitable reaches of the desert,
lingering in impenetrable fissures of mountain ranges.
Countless untouched places; an astonishing variety of unimaginable beauty
Why such extravagance, Lord?
Why such indescribable beauty with no one to see it for almost all of time?
Clearly this isn’t about us, is it, Lord?
It’s about you. It’s about your own extravagance and creative delight,
and your deep, engaging love.
Above all, love.