Psalm 8—I am thistledown the wind has taken, yet the lives of stars are nothing to me.

Rendition of Psalm 8

Lord, even the air echoes your name.
The river thrums with it.
The green mountains tower it out.
The holy birds sing it dawnward.
Yet, the earth and the whole heavens
Can’t contain the barest sum of you.

When I look at the works of your hands,
I see how everything is poised
At the start of its becoming.
Fat mat tongues push greenly 
From snow soil like a rising from the dead.
Overhead, wild and unseen singers in the trees
Chorus and break cover, as if every leaf 
Became a bird at once.
The wind blows from another land
And the clouds go cartwheeling by.

What am I that you are mindful of me?
You have made me haunted and hallowed,
Branded, bent, and fallow;
Lattice of heartstring and sinew,
A long and weary marionette;
Harlot to the mirror’s glances;
Hawk above, snake below,
Mouse afield and running.

Still, you gave me dominion,
And crowned me with your own crown.
I am thistledown the wind has taken,
Yet the lives of stars are nothing to me.

O God, how bright and vast is your name in all the earth.

Psalms: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 31, 32, 34, 35, 38, 39, 40, 42, 43, 46, 50, 51, 53, 54, 62, 63, 65, 66, 73, 74, 75, 84, 86, 88, 90, 91, 100, 107, 110, 114, 117, 118, 119, 120, 121, 122, 123, 124, 125, 126, 127, 128, 129, 130, 131, 132, 133, 134, 137, 139, 140, 142, 147, 148.

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