Stop.
Don’t speak.
Just listen.

The galaxies are in your eyes,
And they’re making me question everything.
I’m so small compared to the cosmos that is you.

Do you see me,
Tinier than a speck of dust in your beautiful, terrifying world?
Am I anything?

Many have sent their prying spaceships and caressing fingers,
Searching for the Fountain from which your beauty emits.
I don’t want to touch,
I just want to look.

I don’t believe in God,
But nothing else could create something so marvelous.