By Charles M. Sumid Copyright 2025

Between the farthest galaxy
and the closest prayer
lies the same immeasurable distance—
light years and soul years
stretching beyond our small
capacity for counting.

We stand beneath the dome
of all we cannot fathom,
necks craned toward stars
whose light began its journey
before our grandfathers’ grandfathers
learned to speak the names of God.

What we know fills a teaspoon.
What we do not know fills the sky.

In the laboratory of night,
astronomers map the edges
of the observable universe—
thirteen billion years in every direction,
but beyond that border
lies the dark mystery
of what has always been
and what continues expanding
into regions our instruments
cannot reach, our mathematics
cannot describe.

And in the sanctuary
of the seeking heart,
theologians trace the boundaries
of divine understanding—
through scripture and tradition,
through prayer and contemplation,
but beyond every doctrine
lies the luminous unknown
of what has always loved us
and what continues revealing itself
in ways our words
cannot capture, our minds
cannot contain.

What we know fills a teaspoon.
What we do not know fills eternity.

The spiral arms of galaxies
curve like ancient script
across the page of space,
each star a letter
in an alphabet we’re only
beginning to decipher.

The spiral path of faith
curves through the landscape
of human longing,
each prayer a word
in a conversation we’re only
beginning to understand.

Both infinities humble us—
the physicist and the mystic
equally small beneath
the weight of wonder,
equally certain that
what lies beyond the reach
of telescope and testimony
holds more than we
have dared to dream.

What we know fills a teaspoon.
What we do not know
fills the space between
atom and angel,
between the first light
and the final word.