by Peter Lockhart
A poem inspired by Psalm 8
When I look at your heavens;
the work of your fingers;
the moon and the stars that you have established,
I wonder why the number of stars is diminishing:
the moon is not so bright
and the stars are fading...
...and disappearing
Thank God for the flourescent stars,
stuck on my daughter's ceiling,
a dim and facile sign
to remind them of what is:
the wonder of your creation,
to which we are blinding them
with our city lights
and landscaped lives.
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