How is one to find
The starting place of the sky
For I have searched relentlessly
If I found the place
From which the stars came
It would give me a name to the place from which we originate
For we share the brushstrokes of the celestial spheres
Laying claim to the same creator
Whether it was an event or an intelligent designer
Or perhaps both
I know
That it is that point in which we can find home
For though
We hold
To the dirt, our forefathers sewed
This is not where we will rest
Men work and toil
This accursed soil
In an attempt to make it yield
To make nutrients sprout up from the fields
But though it may give seasons of hope
One day it will die
As all dirt must
Much like the soil that resides within us
So though religion claims to know
And science has proof to show
It is in the creator that empowers me, in which I shall find home.