God spread out
A woolen blanket
Of dark cold,
Then he took a handful of gems
Richest treasure,
Crusted with filth,
And like a gambler
Wishing for luck,
He blew His mighty breath on them
And they burst
Into flames
Of ice blue
And majestic purple
And dazzling gold
And brilliant orange
And scorching red
And He threw them
Across the blanket.
He scattered them
Across the dark expanse
Like a gambler
Tossing his die
Before a crowd of passive faces.
And He named them
For they are His
To give Him glory
And to illuminate this world
Stifled in an oppressive dark
And to mystify us
For all ages
As they silently sing for joy.
A Floating Shift 