Somewhere on a Golden Planet, far beyond my eyes,
A little boy plays on golden sands
And watches the waves and admires the sky.
Never does he dream, as he sifts his sand
For the lovely sand castle he’ll make,
Of other, microscopic, worlds
With skies just as blue and waves that break.
As he runs to his mother with a smile on his face,
Is he aware of me in this unfelt place,
Far down in a molecule composing his heart,
As from a tiny nucleus 9 minute electrons part?
When they spin in their orbits on a predetermined course,
He supplies millions and millions of worlds with their force.
And do the wars, which these miniature worlds bring about,
Cause his tonsils to inflame with fire and pain?
Or manufacture a deadly cancer
To destroy his young brain?
His cells are bathed in saline from tiny oceans
Pulled by miniature moons.
There’s even some left for the tears
Which may come upon him soon.
And am I just a germ who can be good or be bad,
To protect him, or infect him whenever I’m mad?
Please aid us all, Dear God, who call this toddler “Home,”
As he rushes with yet millions to unite us as Your own