The Dawn of Consciousness

Unlearned, unfathomed, lurking in recesses of the mind, they suddenly emerge... understandings that would not appear in any yesterday, yet here they are, a trick of consciousness, ready to disclose new mysteries, ideas and adventures never thought about before. But I must chase the images; they disappear and fly away before I pin them down, yet have their way of coming back as inspiration—hollow, silent thunderbursts within my viscera, that substitute for God— may indeed be God implanted, not by whim, by passion or entreaty of a master sculptor in the sky, but by the glorious cosmic chimera of our creation. You and I, are they who wield the wand, perhaps indeed from a divine intent, but it is we who are the sculptors, we who grace the skies with kindly paradise, and we alone who have the power to love or to destroy. The thunderings are from within, the insights ours, the loving father not out there among the stars manipulating his divine machine inspired by mortal prayer, but of the dust beside the river, just like us. There is a certainty within it all... and like the river running through us has a job to do in all that quiet thundering. It has to do with sustenance, of life we never knew until this very moment. It has to do with celebration of the new, an unimagined, closer walk with God. ~