I thank thee spirit, for all things made manifest to sight, to touch, to hearing, to breathing, to taste...and being, as it were, made from nothing!
Thou, unmanifest and mighty one...thy creatures are sublime, in flaw. I see that you gave latitude, to every thing! You inhabit the lonely spaces, caress the destitute...seeking no name or temple, to thyself.
Yet you are, and there you are apace, and quickly...when you come! There, within the great dark forest, round the campfire bright, thou spreadeth forth thy cloak of stars and worlds unknown...
to hold the children in your arms, that dream away the night...
Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico
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