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Finding Truth

By J Ann Crowder

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

Written March 24, 2016

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