To the Glory of God
To Gwyneth, with Love
There is a miracle to every little thought
As Shakespeare speaks the dullest person has insight
We attribute easily
But wait, what light from yonder brainstorm breaks
It is intelligence and truth is the sun
The way we surprise ourselves
Whether from the moment or some simple time later
All of us have a brilliance sometimes like we have tripped over it
Sometimes the dullest expression is the expectation that it will not be attributed to the one talking
With anger the devil drives new depths
And will not allow its selfishness to be denied
What is manifest is made light
That some of us are honest and some of us are liars
Yet it is a leaf that is beautiful beyond all source
Maybe because it crumbles
Or maybe because it is like a stone, lost upon the rarity of a find
The brilliance of a microscope that teaches us religion into a small piece of wood
Or the telescope that teaches us religion with the contrast of significance
Oh the mundane pause over our very words
The brilliance of a pen that teaches us perchance to dream that we record something worthwhile
The opportunity to be significant that teaches us the value of letting go
The concern that cliché maybe conceived and appropriated incorrectly
As children in all their innocence anger an artist
So blithely something brilliant is made
The surprise of ourselves our pause, our casual brilliance
A cloud looks like a sail boat
I don’t believe you
A star twinkles to a rhythm
I don’t think so
Leaves have a poem written on their veins
That can’t be true
I can know the future by listening to a recording
What if something that blows your mind will someday be taken for granted
I must no less pause with my great intelligence
And do so all the time because you never know
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