Beneath our feet abides real, tangible truth
Soil is layers deep and over our heads the truth in the skies has layers too
It is God’s silent Promenade
So much truth is abiding therein
Truth in a warm light hugging our skin, as if God himself were hugging us
Dews falling from dove grey clouds spilling over like buckets of rain; they are truth too
They make a song with rhythms stirring our sensations
We felt the petrichor long before storm clouds made their voluminous presence
It was felt in the musky smell of damp dust on unpaved roads
It was felt as azure faded into concourses of winds turning somber and cold
Larg pillows stomped through the sky, we could hear their anger
We experienced a petrichor’s foreshadowing
Thus nature sings, writing novellas with happy endings
She writes like a mystery, each chapter turning as pages unfolding
Storms become the climax; the same when mountains slowly boil, finally bursting of burning smoke and molten sediments
The story calms, waves calm, the storm transforms into glittery light and clean air
The volcano freezes, turning molten rock to glass
The mountain blooms again, like rainbow islands on distant shores
The earth reappears as nourished fields of Verde
The end eventually is reborn on a rewritten page
Pages last forever; thus, torn, rewritten and reborn
This is our truth
Beneath our feet and above our heads God craddles our frail existence
We are a dot of star dust in a universe shrinking our scupted form
Mother Earth writes us into her song and story
This is tangible truth
We are choreographically woven into a living song with pages clinging to the colored threads of a carefully crafted blanket, dressing eternal space