A glittering sun looks west in morning sky, A melancholy moon returns his haughty gaze. One end of heaven an incandescent fire, The other introspective, wan and shy.
Why do these orbs reign in our firmament, Playing hide and seek in diurnal role, And, ministering to our little worldly home, Show their faces in the way they do?
In our far back ancient mythic past Our forbears viewed signs in the sky with wonder, The moon ambivalent, lambent friend at night, The sun a glorious deity to honour.
New discovered truths are since revealed, We understand the sun's immense infinitude, And how our moon came not from maker's hand But by some crass collision, blind and crude.
In some primeval distant far beginning, Worlds like ours had not yet come to be, And in an age far from us in the future, Will pass into the shadows of eternity.
And so the multitudes within this stricken world In all their untold numbers biding here May ask that hope and meaning may be found Upon this strange,imperfect,wondrous earth.
