Breath of Creation

A million lights twinkle above me in constellations I once knew. Bright lights from bodies trillions of miles away scatter the early morning darkness. I whirl in wonder at their glorious display.

How, O Lord, can I fail to believe you are here?

My feet, rooted in dust and dirt, are heavy in the sand of time, in the gnarled root of twisted words and weighty worries. It bends me and pulls me down, insisting I pay attention. I fall again and again at my own feet.

How, O Lord, can I believe you are here?

Is there another? Another who reaches and falls, reaches and falls, as I do this day? My expiration, she inspires? His expiration, I inspire? Do we, together, breathe the universe?

How, O Lord, could we not believe, if we knew one another?

About wlebolt

Life comes at you fast. I like to catch it and toss it back. Or toss it up to see where it lands. I do my best thinking when I'm moving. And my best writing when I am tapping my foot to a beat no one else hears. Kinesthetic to the core.

Posted on March 4, 2017, in Christian, faith, God, hope, Life, poetry, relationship and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. mariandisciple

    Ms. Wlebolt, I love your writing so much …thanks

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