The Nebula, 11.8.06

The Nebula swirls.
All pink, dark blue, and black,
Vague; it marauds my mind with thoughts unseen,
Unfelt for centuries.
I think of all the men who have sailed its rolling waves before,
Both great and meek.
I think of all the tragedies, comedies, romances
Played out beneath its billowing clouds of dust and ash.
Then I think of its vastness,
How small I am in comparison to its seamlessly fashioned sky.
All the achievements are mere dust,
All the buildings, the families, the wealth,
The love, the loss, the happiness, the sadness,
The thoughts and emotions of the human race are fleeting
In comparison to the Nebula.

And yet, the Nebula is also mere water, dirt, grass, air, heat, cold.
Nothing that matters or can be really felt in comparison with HIM.
I see only a taste of HIS greatness everyday,
Among HIS creation, within my body, in a breath, in a thought.
And yet, HE stoops to hear me.
HE bends down and listens to me as if I were nothing but an ant.
And still, HE loves me more than anything else in HIS creation.

The Nebula still swirls,
But it moves slower now.
Maybe because I understand just a little bit of it.
Maybe because HE wants it to.
Or maybe because of a sign of the times to come,
When we will truly see HIM
In all HIS awesome splendor.