I lie on a bed of grass, huddled beneath
this vast expanse of night sky
with the breeze passing in light swirls
over my upturned face,
all my senses alight.
I gaze at that smooth disc
of ardent argent,
unmarred by confining cloud
or pestiferous phase,
clear, full, and impossibly bright.
I wonder at what's brought me here,
to this point in my life;
so many, many questions to be asked;
and all posed to that strictest and secretive guide,
that which we style as a soul.
Rumination, on this field of earth
and in the endless fields of the mind,
provides precious few answers;
yet I continue, ever and anon, to question,
for such, it seems, is my lot.
Is all that's transpired due
to the designs of destiny,
fate's decree -
the cruel caprices of chance?
Is there a reason, dictated by eternity's will,
for a lone heart to suffer so;
for entwined stars to be torn apart,
one to soar, beautiful and shining,
and one to fall, scarred and dimmed?
The moon knows not,
nor answers my call;
distant and aloof, it returns my scrutiny,
impassive and serene, it quells
the raging storm inside me.
Quieted, I linger,
somehow unable to leave -
and for a time, remain,
entranced under the pale orb
that floats the night above.
Copyright © Andy Sprouse