Last ev'ning, I longed
to make a moon ritual -
full super blue blood.

My children, awake,
requested book after book
as my patience waned.

At the bless'd last page,
my son, age one, declared, "scars!" 
at the pictured stars.

We traced the image.
Universe pondered itself.
We, cosmic icons:

mark'd, scarr'd in bones, breath, 
celestial heartbeat bodies
forged of firmament.

Soon, we settled down,
slipping in the liminal
gap between our days.

Laying in the dark,
I glimpsed Her bright power through
thin crimson curtains.

Lunar orb led me,
Her pull to the temple door
entrancing, ancient.

I roused my children -
"Look out at the sky!" They searched,
first puzzled, then awed.

"Aaaah!" breathed reverently
is perfect prayer, aeons-borne
yearning, light for light.

Haloed in moonglow,
two angels brought divine song
to my windowsill:

stellar hymns, spacetime
choirs, elements singing praise
of Heaven-Earth hosts.

I lay by their sides,
prostrate and humbled, mouthing
a silent "Amen."