we forget just how full of light the night is
the sun was our king, and the moon was our queen
and fire to carry their light to earth was dangerous and miraculous and only as plentiful as gathered wood and candlewax
but now, we've brought down
so many little suns and moons
in street lamps, in square screens, on skyscraper summits
that we've blotted out heavenly radiance for our own,
so now
we forget just how full of light the night is
.
the sky doesn't leak light thorugh the stars like accidental pockmarks, no
when we leave our saturated cities, when we breathe shabbes air with the trees, if we went back, to when Rabbi Hillel, Rabbi Gamliel and Rav Abba each had one star to count to mark the beginning and end of each day
the sky they were looking up at in total devotion was more star than abyss, more glitter than canvas, more inundated with heavenly radiance than new york city sidewalks with gum or rush hour bay bridge with tire treads
we've forgotten just how full of light, the night is
.
but the planets are still dancing in their eternal memory
hashem's handiwork is drowned out but not erased
the rhythm that has kept them all moving in synchronized two-step - the intricacy and size of which goes beyond all comprehension - is still being softly orchestrated and recreated each night
we've half-mimicked the most incomprehensible thing
god's first creation
taken "vayihi or" and brought it to the earthen floor
but it could never compare to the ceiling of shamayim
which even when you can't see it shines infinite and pure
what does it mean to replace god's miracles with our own?
.
I wish we could just turn of all the lights for a night to bask in her glow again
I wish we could exist in the abundance of the world as it's been gifted rather than numbing and overfilling it with excess from our own hand
I wish we knew how to love miracles rather than replace them
.
I want to remember that even in the deepest unknowns I've ever walked through, I'm already gifted with more radiance than I could ever need
I want to turn off every street lamp and screen light in my life and bask in the tapestry that I've become numb to
I want to remember, and never forget,
just how full of light the night is