Rhythm and Glow

So often, I am deaf to the voice of my Father. But one way that I swear He speaks to me is in the evening kiss of a firefly's light. How else (okay, weather factors favorable to fireflies aside) can I take the single firefly that appeared at my table while I was sitting outside during my break this evening? Somewhere between Mumford & Sons, who are delightful but not always cheerful, and the exhaustion of stress and sun-addlement, the world grew darker than the circumstances merited. Cue a lone light that descended from above until just within range of a welcoming hand. Why is it that I flick off or writhe away from all insects but these? But ants are not so favorable to poetry unless you are a practical person, and practical people do not tend, in my rather limited experience, to think in poetry.


And I was on my way home, caught between drive and dream ... Standing still in a moment of eternity / Where worlds collide and I feel the breath of heaven over me ... I chanced to sight, out of the corner of my eye, a brethren lantern. Upon daring to look closer, I knew him to be not one but many, a hundred thousand instruments of phosphorescence playing a joyful symphony. Not a lone stirring of hope, but a reminder of the myriad promises of a good and glorious God.


Oh Lord, my heart is not lifted up;
My eyes are not raised too high;
I do not occupy myself with things
   too great and too marvelous for me.
But I have calmed and quieted my soul...


Chiaroscuro

One tear falls,

Shimmers in the darkness

As refraction captures the light

of a single firefly.

I keep my hope in a jar

to light up the valley of the shadows

when the soul's midnight presses down

and His hand is my only trust.

And this, the hour of need, sees

a hand that shakes but dares

to unscrew the lid

and release

one dream to light the way.