We’re supposed, I suppose, when we look to the stars
to reflect and to contemplate:
how very far it is, even to Mars,
how the space of … well, space, is so great.
We’re supposed to be awed by the millions of lights,
and to ponder the thousands of years
they’ve been shining like sails on the dark sea of night
till the universe washed them up here.
We’re supposed, I believe, to feel wonder and all
at the sheer size of nothingness there
remembering all our concerns are so small
that the cosmos won’t notice, or care.
But, though I’m astounded, astonished and such
at the firework display that I see,
I’m amazed most of all that night loves me so much
he’d put on such a show – just for me.