A good poem from Brendan O'Halloran ...

He can be found here:    http://allpoetry.com/Brendan%20OHalloran

Question Mark with Broken Wings

I met you in space,
rising on the power
of my own hot air.

You were Ursa Major and Sun,
compass, comfort, and companion in one.
I couldn't keep my bearings straight,
and like Icarus, I fell,
sorry to be unequal but grateful
for being outside the confinement of walls
that only reflected my own image.

But even stars need rest, and when you'd come down,
to my level with each passing day, I'd be ready
with splints and trebuchets to fix the wingspan
of solar flares and sleeping pills. You made me
believe that I could repair the cosmos in a 
single night, and each return galvanized
faith like fusion.

I would straighten your reach
until you became an exclamation mark in full bloom,
pointing to real norths, where Daedeluses will find
everything they need, until the ratio of the
blessings we have to the words we use to describe them
cuts the knot in the sign of infinity and searches
for numbers unknown, and I can hear the hammering
of nails to boards, keeping feathers in place.

You are not myth.

You keep planets in alignment, create the light that
makes life, and lead sailors out of dragons' backyards.
When I kiss you, my voice raises an octave from the helium
replacing the air you've stolen. So though you've given
me energy, given me sight, and protected me from the cold
vacuum for which I originally looked, the best thing 
you've ever done is give me something to worship.

And all I've ever given you is a parishioner. 

And yet, in proof that even deities can be bad at
arithmetic, you call us even.

And that question mark is back, in full flight,
over my grateful head.

Brendan hails from the great snowy Northland.  Check him out.