Praise ye Father, Sun and Holy Ghost
so I
praise the night as a loving Father - snuggled in an enormous black
holey old quilt;
creating light passages that
reflect upon the many pieces of heavenly rock
upon which a church
could be built
Yes, we experience this 'nightly' and it soothes
those who lie awake
coping with their guilt
The Sun is like a mother - she radiates and nourishes the
trees
she wakes up each morning to glow and shine
while many of us pray
on our knees
which is of course, why our knees get dirty
and sometimes we put holes
in our knickers
but mom just makes patches - fixes them up
and reminds us to laugh and my
brother snickers
The Holy Ghost of the many comets
whispy
light - trailing tails
join the clouds like many angels
flying in the sky
ships of streaming sails
seem to bring the bounty
distribute the ever-lasting joy
and dust the heavenly orbs
the stimulation and activation
building up water
it rains and the earth
absorbs
giving birth to oceans - life to plants
returning again - cycle complete
we're cleansed by these showers
fed by the fruit
we splash in the cold river
that cleans our soiled
feet
The lightening is music - like the 4th of July
it's the heart-beat of nature
it's the crack that splinters the sky
It's Father's alarm clock
it's Mother's reminder
That nature might be a bit rowdy
and sometimes we think she should be
kinder
to those below who have worry and fears
who don't like winds that gust
and thunder that hurts their
ears
The Clouds appear like 'Ushers' -
Guardians-in-Motion
They move these events across land
escorting them to the ocean
out there they play - have their frolic
and tackle waves
water spouts turn about
and for a time seem like
slaves
as they rise and swirl
unable to escape
with fluid strength
they rise tall
so rainbows can manifest
inside their foam; suddenly they're released
freedom - and they make
their way back
home
There is no anger or death-ward purpose
in the play of Nature and its extraordinary
changes
it is only a normal day in the galaxy
it is the SONG SUNG OF LIFE
in unlimited ranges
From low to high
its frequency
is heard by our internal awe
it's documented by the human species
who likes to make record of what
'he saw'....
Man uses his fingers for pen; chisel and high-tech key
little letters jumping and poked
history saved for humanity!
Precious notes; journals - books and symbols
prose, poetry - acting out in mime or rhyme
History allowed to repeat itself and made
eternal
because someone decided to take the time
to make the time
to create the time
moved by the joyous spirit
and aren't we all so forunate we have
ears that can really hear it?
Remember it's not the ears that hear audible sound
it's the ears inside us
the knowing and belief we've found
We thank the Father of the Night
the Mother-Sun of Day
the Holy Ghost of Comet Angels
this exciting trinity that loves to rally
in what I define as
'NATURE'S WAY'.
Diane Stirling-Stevens
