God is a name for the smell of squash plants under the noonday sun.
When the clouds are moving across the sky and you're drifting away in a fold out chair.
God is the word for when it all feels just right. Like you'll never be safer or more content than in this moment. You wish you could stretch it out forever.
God is the accumulation of all these flashes of goodness---an unexpected surprise, the smell of her cooking, his distinct laughter, a shooting star that brightens the sky and disappears, your smile--- our minds unable to comprehend an end to it all.
It must go on forever somehow.
And perhaps it does, just not in the way we expect.
Aug 2, 2020
Aug 2, 2020 at 10:17 PM UTC
God is a name for the smell of squash plants under the noonday sun.
When the clouds are moving across the sky and you're drifting away in a fold out chair.
God is the word for when it all feels just right. Like you'll never be safer or more content than in this moment. You wish you could stretch it out forever.
God is the accumulation of all these flashes of goodness---an unexpected surprise, the smell of her cooking, his distinct laughter, a shooting star that brightens the sky and disappears, your smile--- our minds unable to comprehend an end to it all.
It must go on forever somehow.
And perhaps it does, just not in the way we expect.
Request permission to use this poem