“Have you ever tried to read a book, over and over, again and again; but never make it far into?”
It doesn’t hit. It doesn’t speak. It doesn’t fix your attention, make you think, seem to leave an effect at all.
Then…maybe from different vantage, moment, state and place in spirit and life—it does. Different from all the times before, when there was no connection, and you left alone; this time—you can’t walk away. You feel it—telling and speaking direct to you—and you know it’s foolish for a book is an open story for all the world; but that is how it reads.
Changed, to you, it is beyond a book. It’s a life-experience, moment, forever memory; and with new eyes and reading heart—affected—you recognize and discern a fullness of spirit and beauty that, before, you could never see.”
Above, he looked on changing sky; coming rain he prayed would fall and save what, without, would soon be lost; and like the wind—from breathing in, then still, and after blowing outward in announcement of front’s arrival—he changed thought’s course.
“Have you ever met someone that hits the same? In, and out, and across life’s story; we see but little notice all that holds—waiting to be found—within. We read their cover, their first few pages of shallow beginning, but we never make it to their heart. We never reach their depths or spirit at all. Then—new day, moment, encounter, state in spirit—we read a new page, opening to their greater story; a revelation that strikes and stirs. We are attracted in effect, wanting to know and learn more: all they tell and why.
They hold in thought. You wonder how you didn’t see before, but it doesn’t matter. You see them now, and that’s what matters.
Have you ever lived that?” He asked.
She listened. Eyes flashed a hope to speak, but she held to the words as she pondered them within.
In sky, first of lightning flickered in spirit-well of cloud; burst and dance of glow showing through from depths; then spoke telling echo-thunder—low and soft and rolling—that left tremor of the heart.