And suppose I had predicted the events of tonight's early evening? Would I still pick up the phone? Would I have a choice?
At times I am convinced the world has forgotten to continue turning and the sphere waits:
suspended on the black stage while the stars twinkle the cue--"Keep moving."
What started as a descent ended in a Godsent-near-stranger: a friend appears while fogged (confused) eyes blink through the foreign mist. I am still clueless as to why we watched Quantum Physics cartoons in the kitchen while my new houseguests munched on salads and cracked open coconuts.
That is not a metaphor. Fresh food has leaked into my kitchen and the world smells alive again.
And X-box ministered grace in a racetrack.
My heart is tired but my Soul is full. And that--my friends, my Beloved Listeners--lifts the sun from his bed of snowcapped peaks, that he may drip sleepy eyes over the waking world:
and into me.
No comments:
Post a Comment