The Lament of the Heavens

Photography courtesy of Mary Christine Helms

The echo of God’s voice was heard,

Amid the cries of infants’ tune. 

The children of the fourth day stirred,

In afterglow of sun and moon.

From cosmic cribs these new lights glimpsed

A stone adrift in grav’ty’s gloom.

They peeked from cradles, smiled, then winced,

For they foresaw the Earth’s own doom.

Then men emerged from dust so quaint,

And cosmic candles watched their fall.

A canvassed sky for man to paint

With stars to bear the stories’ thrall.

They tied the stars to heroes’ cheers,

And tied in, too, the monsters’ wrath.

But constellations lost in tears,

For man ensnared in fate’s cruel path.