Late at night in my younger years, / my father woke me in the middle / of the darkest of nights.

Late at night in my younger years, my father woke me in the middle of the darkest of nights.

A Goliathic shadow, he placed his hand where a father’s hand rests– the world passes from a man’s shoulders.

He pointed up to the dancing lights in the sky… I saw and whispered, wondered-

So high above me, so far away- so wondrous, and I felt small in pajamas.

Father, the lights dance outside my window again tonight. Where is your guiding finger? Father, where am I? where am I?