He sees God (so to speak) in the celestial dance of sun/moon/stars, God’s touch in the bodies of beasts/fowl/fish, God’s image echoed in the gait of each man/woman/child walking down the dirt roads from Vermont to Palmyra. But it’s not until he feels the weight of the world of mankind, not until the ancient gears of division/wickedness/darkness grind him that he comes to the grove begging— —for a way to heal the broken links between us. Not until after he almost drowns in the darkness that He sees God and asks what nexus exists where he and you and I will find each other.
Originally published in Song of Names