If standing in the storms
with you
is the conduit
to be made anew –
then I
love the storm.
But that
adoration
pales in comparsion –
through you I’ve seen
life’s dreams
come into being
doubts of the supernatural
made obscene –
those joys
or manifestations of celestial
as prayers
answered are
known to shower
down with baptismal
waters
that stain face –
and I revel
in God’s grace –
by way of you
that melody –
of love’s
sweetest fruit.

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Beautiful poem and photo. That downed tree almost looks like petrified wood. Such lovely colors.
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Thank you Katelon, this photo does echo I have to admit.
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