Gravity

Oh God, it will not suit to call you simply
creator - who finishes and moves on, or retires
designer – who sounds as if he works for somebody else
poet – who dreams but might not do.

What do we call the One who drew up gravity,
a linear force that slings planets around suns,
and moons around planets,
stirring waves to the shores and awe to the eyes?

An ironic force that will skin the knee of a little one who runs,
but then gladly succumb to the lifting arms of a mother;
that can put daggers into the knees of an old man,
but then lay a warm blanket in his lap

A fair force that connects any and all pieces of mass
with equal treatment and same rules,
so that not one is ever alone,
so that each is drawn to all others

An invisible force that begs us closer together, always
(take two steps away, and it seems like four,
for gravity wants it zero - perfect unity)
like a shepherd

An enduring force that even in an expanding universe
never grows weary or changes the rules
to make straight what You made crooked
for gravity, too, has faith

in the Creator, the Designer, and the Poet.

 

bn (from "Psalms of Science")