Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Dizzying


And I saw the sky as a great expanse, dizzying in its immensity. The stars punctuated the darkness, and some were brighter than others. I saw Vega, and the North Star, and even a couple of planets. And I saw you in all of it.
            There you were, in every cubic inch of it; you permeated the darkness and the light. Over space and time you were and you conquered, through and through. Past forgotten planets and ancient moons, your hand swept across lightyears, and all in an instant. You traveled across unknown worlds and infathomable depths—a distance between us that I had foolishly chosen—to mend what I had torn apart, and you called me by name.
            You had breathed out the galaxies and all the spaces between them. And with just as much deliberation and care, you stitched back together what I had rent asunder: the binding between us. I cried out and you folded me back into yourself, into what I was made to be. You brought me back—you bought me back. At great cost to yourself, you rescued me. You spared nothing. You gave up your own life, and you’re willing to give up my comfort; and you teach me to see that this is beautiful and good. You teach me to see clearly.
            And through it all I see how you love me and how you always loved me, more than the beautiful stars that point to your brightness, more than the wild seas that echo your power, more than the birds of the air that display your grace. You have clothed the flowers of the field in beauty; how much more have you taken care of me.
            You bridged the gap, you conquered the great divide, and now there is no distance between us. You call me by name. You call me “Daughter.”
            I rub my eyes, and then I open them a little wider. What I see takes my breath away. I see your love as the great expanse, dizzying in its immensity.

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