The Son of Man writes
harmonious words
with ease
With quills that replicate spirals
on the grandest scale
His galaxies
can reside in our minerals and bones
His limits of possibility
His starting positions are distinct from ours
Stars, gases and dusts
Bulges, bent and straightened
by time’s self
and all the while we live
small, yet important,
In His dwelling
Somehow, the creations of the first day
and the last day are written in our hearts
Fine lyrics of Earth on holy parchments
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