To a God Unknown

A poem

Photo by Klemen Vrankar on Unsplash

I felt you in the crisp morning light
And your hand on mine the night Oli died
And you stirred all the oceans within
when everything else ran dry

And I see it in the stars and in the webs the spiders weave, the worlds that the artist’s brush conceive and the songs that raise the hairs from my skin when the heart has succumbed to the mind