I can’t always see the stars
from where I sit on my front stoop,
Although I know behind the heavy clouds
or cast of lights from the big city,
they are there.
Sometimes, I catch glimpses of them blinking
As the cloud cover parts, reminding me
That they are always there
Remote, often invisible friends
I can’t always see or touch,
But sometimes might drawn warmth from
In the deepest need,
Icons to come greater
And more powerful universe
Of which I am still a part,
Fixed elements in some universal plan
I am too small to see in whole,
A plan I have not devised
But which has devised me,
Who on this side of that great divide
Can merely wait, and watch
Patiently.
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