I trip over
a bucket of water before stretching out on a bench. It´s almost midnight. Even
with my jacket zipped and my arms folded around me I start shivering. But I can´t
go back inside…not yet. Star-studded blackness is too eloquent to read over
quickly, too rich with un-captured emotion. Perusal is not enough. I need a few
more minutes, a couple more moments to even put one complete thought together
from the letter written by points of starlight.
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A wave of
crashing Love pierces the Earth´s atmosphere and reaches the shores of my
heart. I realize I can stop Love in its trajectory. I can refuse this
space-defying, space-filling Love…it will not force its way into my soul. “But
no,” I think as my vision is blurred by a tear, “I cannot pretend to shiver
alone when the same Love that holds the stars in suspension is surrounding me.”
“When I
consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which
thou hast ordained; what is man, that thou art mindful of him? And the son of
man, that thou visitest him?” Psalm 8:3, 4
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