♦♦♦
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