by Carol Edwards
Think not Heaven is clean clouds harps and white robed choirs, but searing flash of lightnings the shake of thunders, bejeweled nebulae, erupting stars planets in their dances, the mountains’ strength in halo’d rainbows. Your joy drenches us like rain; not merely with our voices would we sing Your praise, but the melody of our thoughts rises like incense to You. No weary eyes and yawning visage, but awe-struck the masses flock to You; such small hints of You we find in the good gifts we love, yet most are blind it’s You therein. But those that see even darkly thirst for more, the Spirit river drink, the brilliance of You to breathe and adore. How then imaginations so distracted? Why enthralled with baubles and choking vines? We are far too easily pleased with our mud, higher things too grand to rest our eyes.
Carol Edwards is a northern California native transplanted to southern Arizona. She lives and works in relative seclusion with her books, plants, and pets (+ husband). She grew up reading fantasy and classic literature, climbing trees, and acquiring frequent grass stains. She enjoys a coffee addiction and aspires to be a succulent mad scientist. Her work has appeared in Space & Time, OpenDoor Poetry Magazine, Origami Poems Project, Uproar Literary Blog, Heart of Flesh Literary Journal, Cajun Mutt Press, Gyroscope Review, and The Ocean Waves published by Red Penguin Books. She uploads her poetry to www.practicallypoetical.wordpress.com
I loved it.–Teresa Burleson
It rang true
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