Fields

The field of clouds
Like a bed of cotton balls
Glowing with purples, pinks, violets, oranges
Reds and blues
As if incandescent and neon bulbs alight it from below
It forms a texture so inviting
It asks you gently, sincerely, to rest upon it
And like so, the heavens become your bed
Your place of rest

And while laying down on His green earth
In observation of this, you are engulfed
By two places of rest, all-encompassing
Nothing is unknown anymore
No need to fear
His creation triumphs
In bringing you peace
And it certainly passes your understanding


penned 09.30.08