The beauty of a magpie perched on a rooftop,
The mystery and miracle in the sound of a baby's first cry,
The ability the body has to heal itself,
The cries of a wounded spirit.
Yet I did not create
The bird who sings in early morn,
The babe who rests in his mother's arms,
The body that heals and houses,
The soul that chooses to trust.
The tiny animal is cared for and clothed in its finery,
The child was formed in detail in his mother's womb,
The human frame functions with complexity,
The inner longing for the world of which this is but a shadow
Are all glimpses of the One who inhabits the eternal.
This world is a shadow of the next.
LLB September 2010
16 hours ago