ON THE TRAIL OF THE ANCIENTS
I stand under arches and marvel at creation. I become lost in a reverie of feeling as I stand within “a witness” to the passage of time. I come close to feeling as an intruder upon perfect order.
Should not the same feelings persist in beholding a blade of grass, a dewdrop, feeling the wind my your face, hearing laughter – looking into the eyes of a child?
When a tree is struck by lightning – when a rock crumbles – does it cease to be perfect? NO! When a man is crippled, battered and scarred or behind bars – do we choose to close our eyes to the source from whence he came?
Choose to see the miracles around you. What lesson has been learned by one who stood where you now stand?