An Atheopagan Prayer

Praise to the wide spinning world 

Unfolding each of all the destined tales compressed  

In the moment of your catastrophic birth

Wide to the fluid expanse, blowing outward  

Kindling in stars and galaxies, in bright pools

Of Christmas-colored gas; cohering in marbles hot  

And cold, ringed, round, gray and red and gold and dun 

And blue 

Pure blue, the eye of a child, spinning in a veil of air,

Warm island, home to us, kind beyond measure: the stones 

And trees, the round river flowing sky to deepest chasm, salt  

And sweet. 

Praise to Time, enormous and precious, 

And we with so little, seeing our world go as it will  

Ruing, cheering, the treasured fading, precious arriving, 

Fear and wonder, 

Fear and wonder always. 

Praise O black expanse of mostly nothing 

Though you do not hear, you have no ear nor mind to hear  

Praise O inevitable, O mysterious, praise 

Praise and thanks be a wave 

Expanding from this tiny temporary mouth this tiny dot 

Of world a bubble

Going out forever meeting everything as it goes 

All the great and infinitesimal 

Gracious and terrible 

All the works of blessed Being.

May it be so.

May it be so.

May our hearts sing to say it is so.