Colors scream for your attention. They relinquish all forms of clothing in order to have a complete and unadulterated audience with you. Storms rage JUST to be noticed by your eyes. Sunlight runs 93 million miles in 8 minutes just to dance for you.
When the wind blows, it attempts to grip you hair, wishing for a longer occasion—Cursing its vaporous form. Water desperately escapes from the belly of clouds. Each drop praying that it would be the one to have a moment to hug a strand, as it slides to the end.
Sound, itself, is thankful that it was created to be heard by you. It waits anxiously to be used by the next song you will hear, the kiss of the wind against the leaves, thunder’s roar, even a sneeze.
The earth rejoices with every kiss it is given by your feet. The ground makes itself more firm and adamant for every step you take, making sure that you never fall.
Your touch sends tingles through the spines of inanimate objects. Your hands praise God for being God, giving them the opportunity to hold each other as you pray to Him.
Your lips don’t know how lucky they are to lie on top of each other. How envious I am. How I wish I could make them my bed. A cup, a spoon, a fork, even a sandwich CHEERS in the occasion of coming in contact with your lips.
Your body; Thankful to be the chalice chosen to bear you beautiful soul.
You are a product of fire.
Posted on Tuesday, 14 August