Do not feel loved because the sunset moves you, or stars
appear to sparkle for your sake; nature’s glory
would be glorious in your absence. The ocean’s vast
expanse is not for you, nor the mountains’ grandeur,
lakes, and balsam pines. Their dignity is theirs
without your naming –warbler’s cry and wind’s caress,
nebulae and swathes of lavender purpling fields,
desert canyons’ fossil bones and lizard paths,
the reddish rock with rippling pink. But neither claim
the harshness of the world to be some persecution
from a source unseen; shifting plates and lava
flows, tidal waves, typhoons, and heavy snows,
are not for you. Believe instead your glory matters
too; your holiness, beloved, is that you be.