Mythology

You, sun, the center of our system, source
Of heat and sunlight--you were once a god
And now you're just an object. In the course
Of thought, invention, and discovery
We came to realize that it was odd
To make an object subject to fancy.

You, dawn, are not a goddess baring breasts
To dazzle every eye--we rise from bed
By photons shifted red--all rooster's crests
Are raised as they begin to crow by light
That bends across the earth's horizon, fed
From our near yellow star to end the night.

You, earth, are not the goddess who is mother
Of life and gods and humans who have turned
Away from seeing spirit in the other
That's object now, now we object our kith
And kin are random-process products--spurned
Are any explanations from true myth.

You, reader, do not let yourself be turned
Into an object--let your love embrace
The beauty that remains more true--you've spurned
Too long the love that life is offering
And think ourselves reduced to quantum space
When truth is found when we laugh, dance, and sing.