These crimson drops, a momento of yet another transitional flash in this life cycle, have speckled this verdant swath like the first hearten strokes on canvas. The Maker already knows the final image, but His beloved children wait to see how the work of art transforms daily, unbeknownst the inspired harmonies it bestows.
“I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down into the grass…how to be idle and blessed…how to stroll through the fields, which is what I have been doing all day…
Doesn’t everything die at last and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” -Mary Oliver
I know that letting go of compulsory dogmas and stomping about barefoot back here makes a crunchy sound and tones the spirit.
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