Dance water on the shores of the world
Dressed in moonlit phosphorescence
To the heartbeat of the universe.
Forests in Brazil, Norway and Maine;
Magnificently green and wet with rain.
Hear the age-old prayers whispered into starry skies,
And answer with your fragrant sighs that all is right.
In canyons blazing red with glorious dawn,
Swope and swirl gorgeous birds of dawn,
Awaken rose and lilac with your song.
Ring out church bells! Doves alight!
Sun triumph in the shadows. All is bright.
Look! My Son is born.
It should be simple to say why you'd never love any of the other 6.6 billion people on the planet. As much, or the way, you love your son. It should be easy to explain this person, who gave birth to you as much as you channeled him here. But it isn't simple, or easy. Primal loves go to the center of the universe, and the edges of it too, and contain, in their unique way, all there is. They are a bond that will not diminish in time, because they are a distinct spiritual force in time. Standing on their own, and together, like the four physics forces.
I could speak about his physical enchantments, and recite his achievements, virtues, and gifts. Or say that when he entered a room, at two, or four, or six, or sixteen, or twenty-six that the quality of air and light and time and conceptions of that hour, and all potentialities, changed too.
I could show the photos and letters of a lifetime; laugh and cry at those million moments of fun, and adventure, and sorrow, and daring. And express pride that his life has been one continuous act of selfless courage, charm, and caring. But to say too much would intrude on a discrete and other-oriented man.
When we speak the world runs away. When we are together there is some kind of magical everything, in a bubble, all contained right there. If we walk on the beach and say nothing, it doesn't matter, because everything is in his just being there.
Uni-verse means one unifying song. Its nature is essentially creativity and grace, with everything at once mirroring and containing its other side. My essential nature is creative. His is grace. Beyond eternity my first blessing is my Son.
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© 2008 -Suzanne de Cornelia. All worldwide rights apply. This article may be reprinted on websites as long as the entire article, including website link and resource box below are included and unchanged. Suzanne de Cornelia is a freelance writer, and author of "French Heart." Contact Suzanne on Facebook, or Twitter @SuzanneDeC. And click-on her site now for a blogroll of free and fascinating resources: http://suzannedecornelia.com
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