Poem: Little Star

In my bed I turn and stretch, exhale a slow frustrated breath,

And curse my inability to sleep.

Minutes and then hours tick by, as hordes of thoughts assail my mind,

All clamorous but nothing very deep.

I sit and yawn and check the time, five hours gone since half past nine,

Look out the window at the moonless night.

Above the silhouette of hills, heaven’s dark expanse lays still,

And holds a tiny solitary light.

Several trillion miles away, a giant raging stellar flame,

Too big for my wee brain to comprehend,

Has from its heat a light dispersed, across light-years of universe,

And sent it to me at the other end.

Now through a gap between my blinds, that ancient light precisely shines,

Diminished to a sparkling yellow speck.

And though the star appears so small, it’s very presence says it all,

The hand Almighty hasn’t failed yet.

Galaxies beyond my eyes, gravity and space and time,

Are safely in his capable control.

My problems really aren’t so bad, besides, what good could worry add?

Without my help the planet still revolves.

And so I lay me down to sleep, in happy rediscovered peace,

Of mind without its manufactured woes,

And trust myself to care divine, declared in every star that shines,

I find the rest that heaven already knows.

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