Sunday, January 8, 2012

confessions p 15

It is a dance, whirling before me
like a constant drop and buildup
of rolling melodies against a sea of cacophony.
It is the growth of seed to tree
It is the eating of a fruit
It is the laughing bloom of the rose
and its slow growth through the heavy earth.
It is the passing of seasons. 
An accumulation of now.
It is a single dot of punctuation
in the greatest story ever told.


We are like the drops 
that make up the crest of ocean waves
like the rays from the sun
and the blessing of darkness.
We are the words to the greatest story ever told
and the impossible notes on the scale of infinity.
We are the individual breaths 
of god's human life
one leading to the next.
We came from the light.
We came from the endless fields of pre-eternity
to taste one moment of this now. 

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