I look to the sky and the midnight ink
runs dry. Nothing, nothing, nothing.
Sparse. No, vacant. A cast of pricked lights
In a field of nothing until the only lights
Are those cast from my eyes.
The sea is black and silver backed
And the tide too far to roar.
Still ocean. Empty sky.
Trees creak. A creature rustles.
Behind me the house glows with light.
Not the vacuum and the gasping for air.
Something, something, something is there.
God in hearth. God in earth. God in empty sky.
Spirit within. Nothing without.
Nothing. Yet someone.
When I look to the sky.
