Why was the sky created,
stars beyond stars
shaping galaxies,
countless;
in the infinite farness,
unbounded, undefined
courses, directions,
their numbers varying,
made and destroyed;
light borne from light,
darkness from darkness,
one in pursuit of the other,
the splendid shooting stars;
fire, all fire ahead,
the past, all ice, just ice;
in truth, all a farce,
a game of deception,
all but the gravity,

But this was enough,
so why the earth,
why was it created;
the atmosphere, the wind,
mountains and oceans,
fruits, flowers,
fields and forests,
innumerable birds and animals,
water full of fish of all sizes,
for the big to eat the small,
the stronger to swallow the weak;
this animal of reason,
the human,
leading the beasts,
arrogantly bearing his body
on his feet;
his faces so many:
protective and kind
like the cool shade
or harsh and fierce
like the sun's heat;
bound in alliance
with alternating chains
of kindness and cruelty,
of love and hate;
bound in alliance
with fate,
the son of Adam
the daughter of Eve,
distressing, tormenting fate;
ever-changing ethics of
falsehood and truth;
alarmed by deceit,
this creature,
confounded and helpless,
errant and lost.
Much was created,
so then
why me;
why my discerning mind
opened to the mystery
of time and space,
the known, the hidden,
the ever-present,
the realm of
doubt and faith,
the expanse of the heavens above.
Laying bare the secret,
why was I then,
instead of the earth
prompted to look
at the sky.