Earlier today, from a clear iris with clear watered paint He covered an eye with what we call tears narrowed on cheeks to help the feeling of grief and dispair. At that very moment, He cleared a view to a chapter that saw a spirit risen embodied with a fabric which we all were made, the soil.
Imagine being humbled by a gentle breeze that summoned the afternoon, and without fail night Gleasons with the complements the moon pays to the hour at dusk. It is only our pensive thought to resigning from the day that does not allow us the evidence of the Canvass. The Ray that pays attribute to the final contribution of the sun to the final hour, pays homage to to the silver lining in clouds, a message sworn to be the slightest belief to things being better in this life. The contrast is vast but in a few minutes this vision is passed.
The spectrum is spread over the array of our perceptions, of how and when day ends and not over the beauty that simplicity presents. The light only gives way to night because there is a known resurrection in light and night is the only revelation to this truth. From how the day wears you thin, glues your eye shut and you know it as rest. Vivid images, life defining voyages beat increasing never ceasing hour. Turning and twisting on the laid on platform an almost guaranteed victory is granted, because of an ancient long promise of being a conqueror is brought forth, when that Vail brings in light in the morning. Open your eyes to the opportunity presented in Morning.
The textures of His paint brushes are seen to us as cultures and creeds, dimensions of origin, tones and Characters. From the root we all once came, the Adam fruit is spread across 7 continents to complete the day that He rested, to watch only from a distance far beyond our matter. From there He blows winds and exclaims in the thunder we hear when He brews a better day, within, to be without to be alive in Him. The countenances enabled by our expressions, our tones that change through nature, yes including distances of origin closer to the earths belt and the structure we have.
The privilege that astronauts have to see the globe from where it was created, with one hand outstretched, spoken into existence… Even after centuries it still continues in its molding. Drifting sheets over liquid foundation, this is our world and God paints everything we see.