We rarely thank the sun
for rising again, for warming the earth
without preference or condition which keeps us alive.
We do not whisper gratitude to the moon
as it traces silver pathways through darkness,
quietly reminding us
that even borrowed light has purpose.
We seldom pause for the soil beneath our feet, for the trees that breathe with us,
for the oceans that regulate our fragility,
for the invisible forces that hold us in orbit with perfect restraint.
The universe moves in elegant order, unseen mathematics,
unheard harmonies,
energy flowing without applause.
Yet many of us search for something closer.
Something shaped like us.
Something that speaks our language,
wears a face we can picture,
and tells a story we can follow.
So we turn to books.
To traditions.
To inherited narratives
written and rewritten
by human hands trying to explain
what feels too vast to grasp.
Faith, for some, becomes comfort.
For others, structure.
For others still, identity.
But when belief shifts
from wonder to fear,
from curiosity to control,
from humility to hierarchy,
something subtle is lost.
Perhaps reverence does not require a throne.
Perhaps divinity is not confined to costume.
Perhaps gratitude begins
not in doctrine,
but in awareness.
The sun rises.
The moon glows.
The earth sustains.
c 2026 Chu The Cud
All Rights Reserved
Chu The Cud 