Bits of Dust…

July 21, 2016


As His path swung ’round
his feet pressed off
The cold, night-ground,
And his humble eyes beheld
-Like a fold in the fabric of forever-
That horizon


And of the crisp light beyond it he thought: what bits of dust are blessed to bear these beautiful tidings

In myriad reflections

“Dawn is come!” they cry,
And all before it breaks
A clarion call
Of the coming
Of One greater.

(Thanks to Whitney Eitzen for the painting. :) )


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