Paradise --
You had no name for it
but could see it in soft yellow petals
you knew as Flora Maxima.

You doubted it could be,
but recognized something of it
in dew drop studded webs shimmering in the light --
beaded beauty indifferent to death's ways.
You wondered at the mystery,
mystified.

And then, your gleaming eyes--
like the zircon crystals you collected,
shining in the grey gneiss,
defiant of their earthly hold--
joined the child's excitement
for the object so reverently held.

All around and inside, abounding life moved,
irrepressibly pulsing through your veins,
pushing yet more wonder from your heart.
Beauty irresistibly revealed through your eyes,
and shared in joy.

This was your Alleluia
and Praise the Lord!

You,
always embodied by a faith you couldn’t name,
sharing something of the mystical
through those gleaming eyes.

Tell me --
in this dark-eyed world,
where up is down, and down is up,
and divisiveness and hatred rule the day;

where respect is weakness,
and winners need losers,
and lies and deception
serve the confident clamour --

Tell me… where is the light?
Where is the speck that brightens the night,
showing way through this darkened sky?

In moments of darkest embrace,
will we finally learn
how light rises from void,
burning without waiver --
in each of us,
defying the storms of time?

Will we finally learn
that strength lies firmly waiting --
recognizing that the immovable beauty is within,
holding eternally
against the onslaught of the deadening crass?

Will we come to see
how the light flows and rises
through fields of despair,
giving of itself freely—unceasingly,
in no need of the dark effort of a lie
to exist?

Every moment given --
borrowed from eternity.

Every breath I take --
birthed by love.

The yellow touch of light on skin,
its soft radiant heat --
Your restraint for me.

All around, light reflected in colors
plays --
to the glory of Your spirit.

Everywhere life abounds.
Root and branch grope ceaseless in praise of existence,
while pulsing life toils and teems, willfully

Even breezes are shaped
in expressions of Your presence.
Long flowing strands of grass, rustling withered leaves,
dance and give song --

while I search for words.