i gaze at the heavenly bodies at night
as i curse god in his holy throne and his light
for it is in his will that he has made me so
so vastly/ so utterly/ so pain-fully alone

what good does it do to shake with the fists
at the sky; at the sea, at the trees, what bliss
would come from lamenting the way that it is
what good would it do to curse the abyss-

-that has settled and nestled and made in my heart
a pit made of stone as a home and a hearth
with the nails and the fingers as i scratch and i claw
i try to bring myself up from the earth with such awe-

at myself and the god i have learn-ed to love
with his loving gaze as he stares from above
which one of us has more cruelty i do not know
him for planting the seed in me or i for letting it grow?