I have never been one to sky gaze at night
Perhaps it is because I was raised
Under the orange sky of the city,
Or more likely this,
That to look at the vast expanse 
Of black strung with a myriad of stars
That were mapped and named 
And even traveled to is an overwhelm
Of both comprehension and physical measurement.
For instance, when I have laid down on my back,
Been held by the Earth,
And tipping into the chasm of evening black
To experience that awe beyond awesome,
The weighted-ness of being so small
Against something so immeasurable,
And yet, in that weight that pins me to the Earth
Like a moth to an etymologists collection board,
I am insignificantly tiny, tiny enough 
To be swallowed in the dark mouth of night
From whence things can be both
Illumined and shadowed depending.
In that cloak of invisibility
All I hold dear, all I cling to
Vanishes in the gasp of that wonder.
A wish exhaled on the first star
That starts up the evening's astral performance
Before the last lavender rose dusted hues
Have sunk beyond the horizon.
All this to say of the sky at night
But I save this, the moon,
Our sister for sure, and not to be considered in relation to
but separate from the sun.
Yet, I see the impossibility of such an exception,
For our entire lives are determined and prophesied
By the alignment of stars and planets 
Paving an unknown path for each human existence at the moment of our birth.
Beyond all description of words, of language, of anything uttered
Is just this planet Earth spinning on its axis out in vast space.
And I am here. And you are here. 
So there it is, that moment when we look up at the night sky 
To simply say with so much wonder, and magnificence. 
Good evening. 

All right reserved - please do not publish without permission of the author Lydia Nitya Griffith