The fingers of God

A phenomenon which occurs when sunlight pours through clouds and reaches for the earth

That sight which some poetic soul long ago coined “the fingers of God”

A soft voice that whispers in our ears of awe and wonder

Sometimes lyrically recalling a snatch of beautiful memory laid down in reverie that humms like a lullaby gently after

Becoming deeply entrenched

Tectonic plates sliding apart

Opening the heart

Expanding the chest

A moment revealing a soul finding reflection in the universe around it

Life

Is

Magical

And all are poets and artists in an instant

But only some seek to record its arrival

Fruitlessly toiling against the hard edge of reality

Gleaning

Clinging

To a shred of otherwise stunningly ordinary moment as it forms

Informs

Folding it carefully and tenderly placing it away in a pocket of my mind

All is worthwhile, for even the harsh moments cut beautiful patterns that my mental fingertip traces gently later

Learning a lesson, shaving a shard of whimsy to carryover into the next

Glimmer of beauty that arises

Ahhh the lyrical wax it melts away as the flame of inspiration wavers

But the smoke and aroma lingers, tracing art upon the air

It is not the burning that matters but rather the memory of warmth

For anyone remembers how love once felt

And all need to see that feeling recorded in little parcels of words that please the eyes, raising hairs along a knuckle tightly clenched around paper

It’s just paper

Why then does the heart beat so fast?

Why the pain that clenches a muscle invisible to the eye

Because it wasn’t the paper that made the tears cry

It was the moment come humming on wings of words

Placed in the mind

Stirring

Leaves scattering across the grass – it wasn’t the wind

But the memory of how we laughed