Meditation On Matthew 6:28
a million lilies will be stilled
God stopped the lilies spinning with consideration not with pheromones. The lilies had anomalies/anatomies to sing but didn’t care to. Prophecy was self-fulfilling and a molecule from Aristotle’s former body floated; thumbs on scales precluded cataclysms and three other kinds of kindness; spanning one caesura nonchalantly, nature spawned another, even wider, like an absence, like a sum of wants.
The Feedback Loop
The last full moon was fuller. Now the boundary of necessity is porous. I don’t need that pigment – I have wings. When in a sea of leaves and needles I need only brandish an imagination. Every word I speak is channeled back to me a seventh of a second later. Bite me, I say to the deity, You might have spent the morning watching hummingbirds extracting nectar but you didn’t. In your stead I did.
To distinguish infrared from ultraviolet, I’ve interposed a wavelength even I can see. If you are not a trick of light, try flying, like me, in alignment. Memories are made of this not that. Resemblances are tenuous. A second second of elation may just bust the bank. So mind your manners demon, mine’s the only voice you have, and on a moment’s notice I’d disown you.