Its dark
Its like God was carrying a thick black soup
and, entranced by the bright light of day,
Without looking, He tripped and it spilled on the sky
and all of the light went away
so He tried to scrape it all off with His nail
but it was too soupy to dry
so He left it but some of His sparkle shown through
Bright specks in the dark soup sky
then He sat on his chair, and looked at the spill
and the dreaming world below it
and He beamed at the dark and the sparkling stars
like the work of an artist or poet
His creation, so different from light of day
giving peace, watching sleepy eyes droop
and he whispered on winds through the cool breeze of night
"...I hope you like my soup..."
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