You walk and drive and fly and crawl
and when you’re just about to turn around and say
then, just then,
you see it.
Right there, in front of your squinting, unbelieving eyes, it expands
as if it were yawning
but the more you look, the more you squint, you see
that it’s embracing
It’s wider, broader, larger, deeper
than anything you’ve ever seen.
It’s loud and harsh and fierce, but sometimes it whispers, too.
It’s blue and gray and green and sometimes black; depending on the skies.
It’s here and there
at my shore and yours, too,
and you know, it’s always there
to remind us
are so fucking small.
And just as it mirrors many the stars
– always has, always will –
we mirror the love
that came from up above
and became flesh