poetry.

Folded clouds dance before us

Clouds that filter upon each other

Layers upon layers upon layers of white and hued splendor

Scattered showers rain down as if fractures of glass pierced the sky

Held dearly in the hands

Of a God above.

The God above

Whose hands wrap around the world

And whose fingers molded a masterpiece for us to dance with

Mountains that shatter the sky

Oceans that drown our sorrows

Rivers that bleed our blood

And fields of daffodils that illuminate our dreams

The flowers captivated by the only thing we truly care about

Him.

Our father.

Who art in heaven. 

Hallowed by thy name

A name upon which our souls must be held

Dearly

Wholly

Entirely by.

And so, as folded clouds that radiate pinkish hues and orange blues 

As the sun sets upon the mountains that have risen upon us in glory

We shall sit in silence.

Or rather, in awe.

As I often have been

By the world set forth by the lord of the heavens

For now creator could be as masterful but him. 

In crafting a world that we must dance in. Fully.

We -

Folded clouds held in the hands of the one true God. Amen.