Saint

You glimpse him
And the sky charges with grandeur.
The grass shoots long and lovely and lush,
The wind settles to a serenity.
The very air breathes
As if it were all made for him and this moment.
Perhaps it is a gift from the night-sky's Endless,
Those demigods and mythical monsters
Eternally circling one another.
They look down on him, their kindred,
Knowing he's Awake
And feels the obligation due everything
Smaller in the Universe.