We are made from many streams, aren’t we? pieces of a larger river twisting
through open fields, our lives as a meadow thirsting, for nourishment, with wildflowers….
calling forth the sun, to the mud on the shoreline, we sense, we learn our direction,
becoming the very grain we dream about, and allowing the wind to gently move
through us, in the fields.
Poetry, and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies
Note: This may sound mystical but it’s actually about our hearts and whatever faith life we have.