In the quiet twilight, heads turned away. Lost in imaginings, these people I have been blessed to know so intimately gather their vaporous thoughts into mass. One, innocently, in naiveté, embracing the boyish thought of a man's strength. Another, the beauty of a flat world, it's hue and characters dead and flat on the page, resurrect themselves. Their tones warm. Their movement strung along and within the third dimension. Surrounded. Jovial. Specters of light and joy. The third, howling. Mischievous. Rolling with laughter. Nirvana in flesh! Absolved of pain. A stranger to the worries of this world. Her few years, and relentless spirit push against the weight of all that is wrong. Her confidence taunts deaths mysteriously absent sting.
A fourth! Dear God, a fourth so beautiful it makes me cry. An ache of joy that rattles me into surrender. There can be no doubt of You. These so called poor reflections so clear and bright I could no more deny them then I could deny my breath. Your people. Friends and strangers alike hear Your call. Your arms have many names. Your hands the hands of the humble. God in flesh. Today. Here. Now.
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