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The stars were made with us in mind
They pierce the gloom of midnight's mood
And when the planets are aligned
In manners elegant and crude
They form the shapes and dare us find
The God to which they do allude

It's beyond your mere intellect
You can't dissect it with a knife
The God whom you should well respect
Can take away your pain and strife
Your science cannot resurrect
And cannot grant eternal life

You can't see God? Go check your sight
He's everywhere, in every day
Someday the blind will see the light
That He has lit along the way
Oh scientist, you know it's right
Go put your microscopes away.









This is the first new poem that I've written in months.