They are a light
In the darkness of my
Spirit. Eyes like mirrors
Of blood bound truth. “Daddy,
Daddy,” they bless my core with
The sap of adoration. Spindly saplings
Reaching upward yearning to mingle their
Branches among the elder’s; not knowing
To take care. From on high we can topple when
We reach without asking,
Where grow my roots?
What moist, rich soil feeds the heart of my being?
Do I reach past the nourishing flow of wonder?
Am I still enough so Mother can lift me up to the Father?
Does my life flow clear to salvation?
Do I rest in each season giving faith to the ebb and flow?Eyes like hope are the reaching hands of my sons.
As the Father gazes upon us we rise to rest in the
Heart of his lasting embrace.
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