Wrote a poem in sacrament meeting today. Sometimes the mind wanders and I had some images in my head. Though I prefer to read poems that rhyme, it didn’t feel necessary to me with this one. I dunno. Anyway, it’s about stars. Sort of.
The Eternal Rounds
With His gravity, He bends
The materials inward
Until they amass
And grow greater and greater
Until they make a gravity of their own.
He lights fires
Until those fires breathe fire
Until every fountain of flame shoots out ten fountains more.
Crafting forges within forges
He gathers all fire, ore, and dust,
Bending all around him,
Into the shape of His name,
Burning and bending
In one eternal round.
The unblinking beacon blinds
And heals, like grace.
The unquenchable flame warns
And warms, like hearthfire.
The unceasing radiation consumes,
Yet illuminates every hidden thing.
Unapproachable yet indispensable,
Unimaginable yet unimaginable without,
Impossible to withstand,
Yet the essence of every living thing.
These uncountable paradoxes bend into being
At the curl of His fingers,
And the command of His voice,
And in His image.
Then he turns to us,
The bleary-eyed and just-born.
What is it to bend materials who have no will of their own?
They are my play,
You are my work,
You will take my time, my effort,
Bending you with my love,
The curl of my long-suffering,
And soft sounds of my voice,
Creating a universe of constellations
Bound by sealing lines,
Forming eternal shapes,
That bend others still,
With a gravity of your very own.
A Mirror, a Sword and Shield 