Primitive religion is not believed, it is danced!

Arthur Darby Nock

Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
And only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.

Elizabeth Browning

Monday, February 27, 2012

The Wind of the Spirit

The wind played tag with me today
I didn’t see it coming
But suddenly it touched me
Dancing its way across my face
Dusting my eyes
and ruffling the unruly grey
I call my hair….

Off it skittered
Scattering debris along the way
hidden still
Imperceptible potency
Moving, shaping
Urgency personified

Unavoidable and Relentless

Sometimes the wind of the Spirit plays tag with me
It breezes through my mind
Disturbing, moving shaping
Palpable in its persistence

My mind is tossed
Thoughts like leaves in a whirlwind
Swirl in blurring velocity

Only to suddenly fall
Back down
God’s artistry

And then I see
God’s new thing

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