—Rudolf Otto, central concepts in his The Idea of the Holy
When at the ocean’s vast expanse,
I could barely discern with glance,
The mammoth storm front drowned the sun;
Light sank into oblivion.
Two miles up the dark clouds came
As lightning pierced with white-hot flame.
I pondered well mortality,
Beneath the storm’s ferocity.
But here is calm. I lay, looked deep
At stars so wide, so far, so steep
Their hidden planets spin, revolve.
I felt my bookish mind dissolve.
Our solar home? A little dot
In this galaxy’s backyard plot.
Between the stars, the coldest space
Fills me with dread and chills my face.
I lay awestruck in awesome stare,
Felt eternity’s awful glare.
Submerged beneath colossal night,
I am a ghost clothed in moonlight.
The universe moves in ballet.
My veiny hands, uplifted, pray
Not to infinite space and death,
But to Yahweh’s life-giving breath.