Nodes

The endless, foolish merriment of stars   Beside the pale cold sorrow of the moon, Is like the wayward noises of the world   Beside my heart’s uplifted silent tune. The little broken glitter of the waves   Beside the golden sun’s intense white blaze, Is like the idle chatter of the crowd   Beside my heart’s unwearied song of praise. The sun and all the planets in the sky   Beside the sacred wonder of dim space, Are notes upon a broken, tarnished lute   That God will someday mend and put in place. And space, beside the little secret joy   Of God that sings forever in the clay, Is smaller than the dust we can not see,   That yet dies not, till time and space decay. And as the foolish merriment of stars   Beside the cold pale sorrow of the moon, My little song, my little joy, my praise,   Beside God’s ancient, everlasting rune.