There is something poetic in the stringing of words that fit ‘perfectly’ together to form an arc, to form art and beauty, to create dissonance and musical serenades.
In the past few seasons I have written less publicly, but in private the ink seems to be never ceasing. Maybe my feelings have been to raw, too exposed of late to publish across such a open forum. But there is a power to seeing words pieced together, put out there for any to discover and connect with.
There are all of these words in my mind that I see, but cannot yet write. I only grasp at the seams, knowing only the emotion and not the words to articulate.
Of late, I have been thinking about the Word that is Truth. Why must Truth be conveyed through the written form. There is something about words that root and ground us — whether typed in the dimly light shadows on a smartphone or written across the pages of leather bound journals — words that are seeds of truth so when planted firmly into the good soil, blossom forth fields of wildflowers, strong oak trees, and every beautiful flora under the sun.
So when the Word became Flesh and the Incarnation burst forth on this earth, the power lines shifted. The words-seeds finally sprouted and brought forth new life into what was dead before. Have you felt the power of words? Have you let them move you? Have you felt the power lines shift? Have you seen the chance for better, for hope, for light, to dream?
Show me the words, for I cannot see
Let me dream new stories and imagine
Truth to rise up.