Galaxies spin
Across space-time
One fragmented snapshot
Of God’s great
Mystery dance-rhyme
Facts facts facts
Persist as though
They are heir to the righteous throne
And yet
Mystery of unknowing
Rules all
On its own
It doesn’t need high-backed chairs
Pedestales of soap
To declare
It’s righteousness of truth
Any common sleuth
Would sit upon them
and stare
In awe of her majesty
In awe of their insignificance
Of their facts
And yet
Still
We cling
To what we think we know
In favor of
Witnessing this genius
This mystery show
Let me paint it for you
With Words of Light
What happened to you
Never did
And did...
Depending
On your sight