A Point of Light in the Dark

One thread
A single string
That weaves itself
And forms a pattern
So exquisite
That our mortal eyes fail
To even imagine its image
Let alone comprehend it

One speck
Of lonely light
That feels itself
But all that matters
To that pinprick
Is its own existence
And to observere itself and learn from
What it has seen and reckoned

One point
Of purest life
That cannot help
But watch itself live
Knowing nothing
Whilst being everything
And feeling all that there is to feel
Til feeling has no meaning

One God
A lonely God
With many names
That hope to describe
What has no name
And lives beyond our sight
And demands nothing, but asks for all
To try, at least, to find it