[via Muslim WakeUp!]

Don't count the earth - there are plates
under there that do the moving
and insanity caused by gravity
sends her spinning, my earth.

Neither is it God. God watches
with big uncountable eyes
and nudges the occasional avalanche
into view, but mostly loves it
and leaves it alone, my earth,
my over-awe. And so I clamber

up mystification and towering loss
to see if there's a better view
of the wheels, the levers, the infinitesimal
feet causing dust to rise, if there's a place
to stop and ablute my eyes
of love. What is it that moves?

{the full poem by Kyla Pasha}