Weaving Wonder

A Song of Sub-Creation

And the birds are a choir, crafting their odes to the Sun
While he lifts golden strands so he can forge a new dawn
And their wings are a-flutter, flying them here-and-there
And I can hear their laughter, carrying through the air
Their voices are strong, as they sing to the One who made them

And this lake has a story, begging to be told by the Wind
As he roams through the tree-tops, weaving a new rhyme with each bend
And the leaves are all dancing, murmuring prayers through the night
As they shine in the moonlight, before their hopes give them flight
And my heart it is drawn, to the voice of the One who frees them

And these Mountains are merchants who’s clients are intrepid souls
Who would climb up to the heavens, or so in our tales we’re told
And the authors and poets, they’re the brokers of adventure
carving their verses and prose ‘round the posts of those gates we enter
They capture wonder and awe as the One without flaw inspires them

And I long to be counted in among the scribes painting skies
of other worlds, pointed to the One
who created the Sun and the birds and the Mountains
and the Lake and the Wind and the leaves of the forest
and everything I know - let me sub-create to show

The One!

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SubStack AI image. (For shame!)

Thanks for reading!