A Poem for Stargazing

Cold hands, quiet night;
Under a dark, vast, canvas
of pinholed, diamond skies
whence pions of worlds ancient,
lay undiscovered,
eons away.
And I feel
small, humbled,
dauntless, reborn.
And I forget
this tiny, bubbled box
of mapped out terrains
built entirely
of selfish, earthly afflictions.