Do I
Need I
Must I
Matter
To the Painter of the Stars
It was an early windy morning
The Dark yet holding back the Light
I wonder as my eyes wander
Over the Beauty of the Night
Do I matter to the Painter of the Stars
Or am I just another breath
Do I have something more than hope
In this life before my death
Need I matter to the Painter of the Stars
Or can I breathe alone
Is who I was, who I am okay to be
Just skin and blood and bone
Must I matter to the Painter of the Stars
Must I know this for real
Does my ignorance have a place
When the story is so surreal
It is an early windy evening
The Light yet holding back the Dark
My imagination wanders
As I wait for the night to embark
Confused, I stare at the clouds in the dusk
And nothing in me knows
All around me are ones that also breathe
So everything in me hopes
That I
Do I
Need I
Must I
Matter
To the Painter of the Stars
© Ruby Neumann
Poet's Note: Written January 20, 2021
When I am sitting in my hot tub looking up at those minuscule dots in the darkness, I can only imagine them as splashes of white and cream paint on a black canvas. I don't know how big they are, I don't know how far away they are. That would require that I believe in something and someone and I am not ready to commit to any conclusions in that department right now. So I will credit the artwork to "The Painter of the Stars". I have no face on that "Painter", I don't really need one. But I am narrowing down my selection of names for the creator of the cosmos, and I like this one very much. "The Painter" says so much about the character of the one who is responsible for the artistry of life: for nature, for me and my husband and for my cats.
