A few months back, on a sleep deprived return trip from Europe, I was moved
to write a poem about a night under the stars. Some of you may think this
is sentimental dribble; if so, please forgive my intrusion. I share this
because I find that it captures, just a little, one of the reasons I
continue to return to the night sky, and with humble hopes that someone here
might also see some value in this brief description of the experience.

A Night Looking Up

Adrift in an endless black sea,
Trapped on a spinning cloud-shrouded rock,
Peering out from the depths of the gaseous pool,
I am drawn to distant lights.

Silently called by siren stars,
lured to question, ponder and wonder,
begged to grow beyond the confines of flesh,
I release my dreams to the sea.

Freed to plumb the fathomless reaches,
to the limits of imagination, light and time,
Probing each beacon for knowledge and beauty,
I am filled with joy and awe.

Transported afar by a rolling tide,
past ethereal, shimmering and glowing marvels,
Tasting the nectar of heavenly blossoms,
I am one measure closer to truth.

Fleshly needs reign in grand thoughts,
Returning me home to the small spinning rock,
Made weary by my heavenly voyage,
I seek a release, I seek slumber.

Waking to life in a world made bright,
By a life-giving, warm and close-by light,
Toiling for bread and to help fellow captives,
I am adrift in an endless black sea.

Mike Wobser
06-10-04