Pieces of me filter through. Slivers of memory, not whole
yet clearer than common thoughts. Walk like an Indian, through the woods; dappled light, each coin of silver glowing in this verdant space, a portal. I
was once a boy of these woods, much like I am now, but before screens and incandescent
bulbs; before machines and nuclear bombs. When nature was in us, not around us. We could think in that place. We could see the spaces in between mind and
matter, like photo negatives, myriad coins of dancing
light.
Holy Spirit walking with me in my courageous boy heart.
Walk softly now, for soon the world will make you stomp and rage to
ward off the grasping and cold, bony fingers of trouble and strife
Until a sliver of light comes to remind you:
Walk softly through the in between spaces.
God is there.
