Perfect world in a miniature sphere;
beautiful tension, eloquent grace.
Incarnation of love's eternal face
wakes me from dreaming.
Deep calls to deep in a drop of dew.
Beauty in a tiny globe glistening.
My soul longs for deep listening
in the awful silence.
That's when my soul begins to see,
recognizes, names, and reflects beauty.
In naming, incarnation is empowered.
Do I have ears to hear
the message in that drop so clear
when words leave me empty, lacking, and deaf?
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