Saturday, May 27, 2006

This Side of Reflection

27 May 2006, 9:52 PM
Alone at the reservoir

Black as pitch against a fading sky,
the treeline reflects
upon the surface of the Reservoir.

A latticework of ripples
makes its way across the waters,
blurring all in its path,
muddling clear-cut lines
so that only their vaguest forms remain.

Even light is skewed;
made something other than it is
as the waters dance and play
against the dark,
beneath the wind,
above unseen currents,
encompassing the flick of fin;
movement of ken.

It occurs to me that this is how we see:
dimly; a reflection upon moving waters.

Few things are certain...
but reflection suggests form,
form entails purpose,
purpose begs volition,
volition is bound to One who wills;

who can still the waters,
clarify vision
this side of reflection.

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George MacDonald

"Home is ever so far away in the palm of your hand, and how to get there it is of no use to tell you. But you will get there; you must get there; you have to get there. Everybody who is not at home, has to go home."

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