What Catches My Eye

What catches my eye? Where do I see Him?

In veils of mist.

The Artist wets His brush, dazzling the sky

with lilacs I cannot fathom. 

I wonder what colors await me at Home.
What prisms in the palate of Creation have eyes never beheld?

For now, I gaze and wonder.

There is song in the movement.

I breathe in the sweetness of His purity. 

I feel softness catching me.

~Holy Spirit~

I free fall into translucent poetry.

His beauty engulfs the horizon. I feel hope approaching.

There is tangible grandeur.

A palate of Power.

My Father laughs with me as I daydream.

I spot the familiar shapes of childhood.

He tells me a story.

I giggle.

It's our moment.

When storms approach, 

He commands the threatening winds. 

He is my Security. 

I may feel the rain, but...

...I hope...

...despite the colder clouds, which chill the skin, and chap the heart.

Without rain, life withers. Strength collapses.

Holy One, sweet Father,

breathe upon my wayward clouds of discontentment, pain...

...frailty.

Encompass me.

You build towers of 

strength from weak places.

A fortress of Grace.

The hopes You set in my heart will not fade into a vapor.

You hold the sky, and all that is within it.

You hold me.

Your Light explodes into brilliant rays of Sovereignty.

It is no wonder that You speak the loudest without words.

I look up to the sky and see gifts of Glory.

My Father is an artist.

The Author

Life's Poet.

Though He can be seen in the sky,

The sky is not His limit.

No limits for Eternity.

Until next time,

The Carpenter's Daughter

"I have swept away your offenses like a cloud, your sins like the morning mist. Return to me, for I have redeemed you."

Isaiah 44:22