♦♦♦

only an artist who cares bothers with detail

moments, brightened by a sense of otherness

brought on by a passing wind through leaves

bringing with it a small whisper

from an unseen mouth

reminding you you’re not alone

 

without them, the moment isn’t real

birds flitting overhead, immersed

in little discussions in a tongue unknown

the whole of nature speaks in a voice

forgotten

except by those who stop and listen

 

the voice that drifts past bearing

a sweet hello

is one that speaks to the soul

i care

those who bother to speak

are those who first stopped

to listen

 

they remind you everything cannot be explained

some things have to be believed

a voice without an owner or a thought

with no apparent source

a small piece of Bread that is

So. Much. More.

to believe is to trust enough to love

 

a stable, long abandoned

a manger filled with more than hay

an infinite mystery, enfolded

in two small eyes

gazing up with eternal innocence

and powerful simplicity

the paradox of the simple

that puts to shame the strong

 

remembering

all that was done for you

and realizing all you have to do

is give a little back

and listen

 

it is the little things

that tell us there’s another world

outside of the one we know because after all

this big wide world we’re in is too small to hold

such eternal truths

 

♦♦♦

Have a blessed day, you all, and to God be the glory!

Ad Jesum per Mariam,

 

- AB