Star and Dust.

Word, please graze this world
and return to flower and skin,
so that our eyes might behold
the expression of the beauty within.

Creature, do you doubt the design?
Does the chaos make you hopeless?
Or have you made too many designs
of your own to clearly focus?

You rose from the dust, the vapor—
but when the wind might have dispersed it,
the Word gathered life and starlight,
coaxing the chaos to worship.

Now star and dust breathe in harmony,
and your face bears the reflection
of the Word that uttered everything,
for you to exist by his inflection.

Lingering like mist on the water,
the Spirit leaves an open invitation,
but freedom is its own kind of chaos
and questions fill your mind with hesitation.

Now imagine, your mind were empty,
before you imagined out of the blue.
And imagine a canvas were empty,
before it was painted with scarlet hue.

This is the dance between chaos and order,
and it is dangerous and beautiful.
This is the growing, the imagining,
that makes the barren garden fruitful—

You fall out of step with this dance
and see no constellations in the mud;
Creature, you’re sliding from divinity
and your hands are stained in blood.

The dying veins of leaves and arms,
the scarlet blood of sun and palm;
this is the reversing, the wilting,
it was always this way, spring to fall.

The Word descended into creature,
this earthbound holy dictation,
to command the order and chaos,
to usher healing upon creation.

Now, imagine pure white roses
emptied from their scarlet curse.
And imagine a tomb is empty—
how can that growing be reversed?

Creature, you wandering one,
where your melted candles paled,
now the true Light will restore you,
as the Word is finally unveiled.

Heaven swells within your spirit,
Creature, every day you let it in,
and you yourself are the evidence
that the design is heaven-sent.

Celestial syntax, rainbow vow,
heartfelt sunset, purging rainfall;
Do you see it now, Creature—
the seasons turning at his very call?

nature herself, re-enchanted,
fluttering before she quakes?
her hidden treasure strengthened
while her shell—like shackles—shakes?

For nothing else now will remain
but the sacred soul of everything.
Worship will distract the dust
when even the boulders sing.

This beauty is triumphant,
it is the swan song of the Creator.
And, Creature, now you join it—
eternity within the dust, the vapor.