In the Middle

I walk in large circles in the park, this week and last.

The wind blows strong and I bend my head low and stare at the grass below. The hidden world beneath my feet is stirring to the morning call of spring. Very soon black ants will bubble up from underground networks.

Fighting wind, I lift my head and look up. The world above moves in mystery, beyond the clouds, and the sun hides. I marvel at the colossal, me the redeemed with grid of pulsing veins and intricate world beneath my skin that is no less a wonder than the skies.

I walk on yellow-green grass, a shade between winter and spring, in the middle of two vast physical worlds, we three expectant for final redemption, between broken past and burgeoning future.

And I do not know the exact coordinates of this hot spot in the expanding cosmos.

But this I know, on the journey from embryo to final breath

That I am connected to I AM, connected to Source

anywhere I point on the maps yet uncharted,

radiating concentric circles like a radar

From a bright red flashing dot.

Right in the middle

He is.

The heavens declare the glory of God; And the firmament shows His handiwork. Day unto day utters forth speech, And night unto night reveals knowledge. There is no speech nor language where there voice is not heard. Their line has gone out through the earth, and their words to the end of the world. Psalm 19:1-4

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