Saturday, January 23, 2010

standing @ morning's gate

At Morning's Gate
Though a rich man's heir, or a pauper's son
Underneath the cross we shall all be one
When the days shall wane, and the season's growing late
We'll stand at morning's gate

At the potters wheel, in the sculptors hand
We are being shaped for a better land
Where the winters chill, is the summers warming sun
and Life has just begun

Through a veil of tears, we have run the course
Thirsting for the well, of the purest source
Not the bitter taste, of the ground in which we're laid
For all have been re-made
[by Proto-Kaw, from the disc "The Wait of Glory"]

This was what I saw on that Sat. morning at the outer banks. I woke unusually early, quietly stole my way through the room, so as not to wake my wife. Down the stairs, to the end of the blacktop. Through a small path between a mound of sand, to stand on the beach & witness this. Moments like these, standing on the beach alone, on a Sat. morning. The sky, a "love note from God". Unfolding upon me. The perfume of the ocean, it's waves singing their massive song. The fingers of the sun, curling around the clouds as it yawns another dawn upon me. This is the reason I go into nature, alone. I need moments like these. Moments like this one are worshipful, awe inspiring, & soul recharging.
It reminds me of a saying I saw once:
Make time for quite moments. For God whispers, & the world is loud.

May His grace drip from your fingers,

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