Oh, I have flown the cold, clear night

And looked around at the million stars

Looking back at me.

I’ve seen the reassuring warm red glow

Of engine exhaust,

Reflected off the glass of my canopy.

And I’ve wondered of the stars and the night,

The where, and when, and why

Of a million things.

The answers from my machine, sleek and

Clever, come from displays of lights and lines and

Gauges, illuminated and calibrated

To reveal my ship’s soul.

I understand its soul, but not my own.

Within its prescribed limits I direct my

Craft with skill and precision through the

Unmarked night sky. Yet, I wonder,

Who pilots my soul? DOes a benevolent

God pilot us through our firmament? Does he

use our unseen gauges to steer us?

Years and years from tonight, when others

Sit in machines I cannot imagine, and ply

Unmarked routes between places I have only

Dreamed of, they will look beyond their windows

At the wonders wrought by God.

For souls and men, and men and souls

Stay the same through the Ages.

And the same God pilots us all.

• Garnett C. Brown, Jr.