i perch like a mindful,
tiny bird's spirit,
on the very  cusp of the milky
way.
a mere wisp of a thought,
a dreams first seed,
a speck of fairydust,
in the iris of tentative belief.

i have yet to travel the spirals
of the windmill mind,
yet to be fortified by conjecture,
ratified by trial of fire.

my inchoation began,
at the galaxies birth,
yes i am a by-product
of the big bang.
and yes i too,
have seen how and why,
god made the heavens,
such an alluring shimmer of blue,
and why all things, great and small.
need the spark,
the desire to accede,
to the wont,
to ascend to something...
higher and more profound.

i am external, internal grace,
i am in the tears of sad sorrow,
i am in the magic, of unadultered joy
in the laugh of a child,
the flight of a bee,
the glimpse of tommorrow
the purr of a cat,
the bark of a dog,
the roar of a lion,
the ribbet of a frog,
in an old womans glance,
the first kiss of new lovers,
in a babes first smile,
in each and every spark of  
a flighted firework.

i am to be found
for i am hope
and i abide in all.