are not the thing itself; they are only the scent of a flower we have not found, the echo of a tune we have not heard, news from a country we have never yet visited.
-
I was looking at this, well everything actually, and trying to figure out what it is I'm looking at by comparing it to what I knew, something familiar to me.
is this happy? let me compare it to watching kids play in a park while old Asian people play flute and sing songs.
is this sad? let me compare it to collapsing behind the door where snack lay lifeless wrapped in a towel.
I am looking at this and I want to call it beautiful but beauty usually makes me feel at peace but this,
this is fire in blood and the death of the flesh and ressurection of the soul
this is something my heart does not want, but what my spirit is crying out and grasping for
this is Glory,
this is God.
so God would you take this heart and quiet it, so my spirit can hear a new song, see a new sight, find a new Love.
follow the flowers
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