Reach

I was recently in Oregon for a wedding of some friends. On the way back, as I stared out the window of the plane I was struck by the beauty of creation as it shrunk away beneath me. It was a clear sunny day for those of us above the cloud cover. Inspiration hit me, so I had to write. This was the result. I haven't written poetry in a while so it may get reworked eventually:

In Heaven's wilderness
white tranquil behemoths
float by in silence,
unaware of the perceived barriers
easily created
between earthbound minds
and the Divine Face.

Snowy eternal landscape
solid to sight, feathery to touch
sporadically parts as a window
into the turmoil below...

Yet the Swift Sure Hand,
purposing to reach into the clamor,
dwells in the din
amongst those deciding
the wide and the narrow--
those who could be mere pin pricks,
no more than dust.

Yet they--no we!
are the heat of His heart,
the works of his art.
Not damned or destined for death
but chosen, blessed, renewed.

We tread both asphalt roadways
and cloud-paved skyways,
His hands firmly upon unsure shoulders,
not needing to know the way,
only the Waymaker.