Barely a poem, about myself and God
Covered in mirrors, I am a fleck, He
Looks upon to be
Reminded of His own flourishing radiance
I don’t know why he made me shine
for his pleasure.
Perhaps I was a toy in the manger
For the little Jesus to play with–I hope so!
There are spirits who are jealous of sheer sheen.
But then, it is hard to steal glisten-
Like diving in,
Hands-open
to grab the glisten of sunset on stream surface.
Perhaps, clothed in mirrors,
I was a disco ball in the womb,
Lighting up the inner workings of origin
And,
This in-sight, started there,
In an inner illumination.
In the beginning, the spirit hovered, then the light dove in
To the fathoms, illuminating The Father’s mystery–suddenly, it beheld itself!
Do I get to participate in that flashlight moment
of Him gazing at Himself?
Creativity, birth–the mysterious womb-waters of origin;
Yes! That is my place.
God hung disco balls in the hearts of humanity
And I am one! That’s fine, I will do that, I will be
That part of Him! There is nuclear pleasure in this!
The epistemology of light is to shine
Endlessly…
