I like to simply sit in quiet darkness and think. I’m an author and story teller, so many times the things I think are actually the things I see. This is what I saw by sitting in tonight’s quieting dark.
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One foot goes in front of the other, time and time again, so very close to the home in the ever-distance of the tomorrow that I cannot see. Ah but it’s right there. Can’t you see it? We’re so very close to home now.
True light giving true sight on a shore prone to keeping the footprints of the faithful despite the constant waves.
Oh I saw the light, I saw the light. No more am I in darkness nor the night. But that was so long ago. Now I am the light, so what is it I should see? I can tell you what I see whether or not I’m supposed to be seeing it.
I see a man in front view, smiling at me. I trip on a rock, then stand on the murky sand of a grey-skied shore again. He nods his head then disappears in the distance beyond, cosmically asking me to follow without the words needed to begin.
Then there is a tree; a single branch-less tree amongst a marshland. On it I go and place a now weather-worn hand and being to sing as the great singer once did.
How great the father’s love for even this dead tree. She was once so vibrant and free but now she has suffered and died in this land of no life.
Here I am, though, sent before I even knew there were places to go. And as I look and as I see I saw a bag of seed beside me. Marshland can’t foster life needed for these seedling trees, but I scatter them anyway. Judgment had already come the the land before me, but the seeds demanded to be spread that they may start a new day of the Lord.
So I scattered and threw the seeds in any directions demanded of me. And as I scattered I saw.
It wasn’t the seeds dying in the marshland mire. It wasn’t even a sprouting of seeds to become saplings. These were not seeds of trees, these were seeds of land.
These seeds created new land wherever they were planted. They sucked the still waters into themselves, breathed in the shame of the now forgotten realm and when they exhaled, the very land itself could be seen as the colour of new love.
Green grass and life anew, there was nothing unremade by scattering of the seeds.
The smiling man appeared before the dead tree and from it a single fruit dropped from the top single tip. He took a bite, smiled at me, nodded once again, and left to the distance beyond where I could not see.
I turned round in place looking for the man, but what I saw instead was the vibrant hill country of a thriving landscape.
Ah. There he was. In the lands all around me.
Can’t you see him? He’s so very close now.
