july 2nd, tulsa, OK, 12:10 am
very rough, but for you charlotte
A Story for my Sister:
But where to begin…..
Maybe if I start it will come like the inevitable dew that follows the fog in the mornings. Are my dreams to large to bring to life? I would like to think not. For surely there are things that are real that are even larger than my dreams, larger than my inventions. Like tonight, this storms; I have never seem the sky alights like this. The lightning is like a skyward strobe pulsing so frequently it bounces and reflects off everything with a hint of shine and brightens the stormy night for anyone to walk abroad. And after this show, this glory fro God, that small, unnoticed dew will form silently for all who look for it to find like a personal treasure. Each droplet, each tear shaped droplet, hanging on for dear life will stop with the coming of a careful one so she can see their fragile beauty before they fad forever until the next humid dawn.
So surely these immense and intangible things, which we may behold for but a brief moment, are worth so much more, are so much larger, than my simple human dreams. And just like dreams, these images will fade from our minds quicker than we wish; our heads will fill with the petty cares, worries, and business of the day and wash away the silent memories we used to hold so dear.
The rain is coming now; again like it was before. The lights’ fast flickers are slowing with the wall of rain and the cooling breeze, and I will resign with no story for her still, having gained only a glimpse into the artful mind of God. For he has painted his picture so beautifully and now washes his brushes in the steady rain. He paints four pictures at once: the lights in the sky, their mirror reflection off the lake, the image being imprinted on my mind, and the mortal memory- the fading memory- of this storm on the minds of all others unknowingly fortunate enough to witness THIS dream.
A Story for my Sister:
But where to begin…..
Maybe if I start it will come like the inevitable dew that follows the fog in the mornings. Are my dreams to large to bring to life? I would like to think not. For surely there are things that are real that are even larger than my dreams, larger than my inventions. Like tonight, this storms; I have never seem the sky alights like this. The lightning is like a skyward strobe pulsing so frequently it bounces and reflects off everything with a hint of shine and brightens the stormy night for anyone to walk abroad. And after this show, this glory fro God, that small, unnoticed dew will form silently for all who look for it to find like a personal treasure. Each droplet, each tear shaped droplet, hanging on for dear life will stop with the coming of a careful one so she can see their fragile beauty before they fad forever until the next humid dawn.
So surely these immense and intangible things, which we may behold for but a brief moment, are worth so much more, are so much larger, than my simple human dreams. And just like dreams, these images will fade from our minds quicker than we wish; our heads will fill with the petty cares, worries, and business of the day and wash away the silent memories we used to hold so dear.
The rain is coming now; again like it was before. The lights’ fast flickers are slowing with the wall of rain and the cooling breeze, and I will resign with no story for her still, having gained only a glimpse into the artful mind of God. For he has painted his picture so beautifully and now washes his brushes in the steady rain. He paints four pictures at once: the lights in the sky, their mirror reflection off the lake, the image being imprinted on my mind, and the mortal memory- the fading memory- of this storm on the minds of all others unknowingly fortunate enough to witness THIS dream.