Iconoclast
I look out the morning window
The sun taking its time to rise
Orange and amber everywhere
Stillness in the skies
And yet
I see the wind chimes moving, drifting
A pendulum of dancing glass and light
They show a stirring of the wind
They show an ending of the night
And yet
In this box of paint and glass
I feel not a thing, sense only sight
Yet no experience, no heart felt stirring
Only a hunger to know the more, no more night
So I step outside
Wind touches every facet of my skin
My life, my love they begin again
Inside the shadow of the hummingbird does fall
But outside I hear his wings, his call
I breathe in the air
I feel the stirring
I know the sunlight
I hear the whirring
I am truly alive
It's often easier to hear when we step outside the familiar, trhe everyday and the habit. Good poem, Duane.
ReplyDeleteThanks so much Glynn. This is really a description of my last 4 years or so with God teaching me to let Him out of the box I had put Him in. It's been a wild, beautiful journey. :). And you are exactly right. That journey has taught me all sorts of different ways to see and hear Him.
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