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Prolegomena Soliloquy - Pt 2
I have measured the math of a mustard seed,
traced the geometry of origin,
the angles of mercy,
run fingers over the ridges of history
and found Him—
in carbon’s conspiracy,
in gravity’s governance,
in Fibonacci’s stubborn insistence on beauty.
Do you not see—
faith is not blind;
it is sight through the fog,
a reaching…
And now—
see yourself.
The burden you carried like iron mail
slides from your shoulders
as if it was never meant to stay.
Your hands tremble.
Your lips part.
And through the crack in your voice,
You say—
*"I was wrong."*
A new day dawns…
Copyright ©
Daniel Henry Rodgers
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