Under a mystic sea of burning stars,
With no questions to ask—no answers to find,
I wondered if you’d ever thought about vastness.
As if we’re sleeping, you said.
When will we wake up and realize,
We are only hanging from the bottom of a sphere?
And we could drop into the infinite Unknown
If one small rock fell out of the sky,
And realigned our magnet.
Will the backdrop of the night’s sky fall,
And the flames that are our endlessly burning hearts,
Be startled out of their slumber,
When did you stop making me laugh?
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing
and rightdoing there is a field.
I’ll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass
the world is too full to talk about.