In awe,

I look at that bird.

What is her umwelt?

What does life mean to her?

What am I to her?

Does she do poetry?

If yes, what kind of?

When could I understand,

& appreciate it?

When could us both,

Share our imaginations?

How?

Why not?

How awe-inspiring would it be?

Yet this isn’t the least,

The awe in which,

I look at that bird.

The world is often smaller
Than the maps we hold in our hands

Though vision made concrete
Is the true fruit of anyone’s plans

Maybe that marks the difference
Between apathy and awe
How grandiose our vision
Before digesting what we saw

Imaginations fueled
Scraped knees
Building kingdoms in our minds
Woodland forts out of reeds

Don’t let anticipation
Spoil the ground beneath your feet
Nor adventure in action
Outweigh the visions that you seek

This world is often larger
Offering what could never be foreseen

Etch your maps, clutch them tight!
Though pay heed to the road before you

And all the spaces in between

To gather the peace
That swirls through the
Cedars in the yard

To put it in
With where I would
Store my record collection
If I were to have one

If the world still turned slow

To combine that bark stained whisper
With the notes that find my ears
When I can’t find my mind

To give you the music
That animates my thoughts
And the stillness that animates their origin

To acknowledge my weakness
For your smile and its sweetness
To gather and gift my secrets
To hope that it pleases
To sort through the meaningless
To make you laugh till your chest wheezes.

To walk further along if these blessings don’t meet us.

To keep pushing forward
With all I have left
To keep my soul’s doors unlocked
With no fear of theft
To accept you may listen to my music
And wish you were deaf
To prepare to gather up the chunks of silence
After you break it over my chest

To trust that chaos
Is not the rebellion
Of the cedars’ breath

Your body makes mine

aware

that we are truly living.

Some say He’s invisible
Though we all know He’s invincible
His breath alone parted the sea
Well, He’s Jehovah nissi

Three in one, one in three
You’ve got Him, you’re free
His thought alone makes me the opposite of sad
Thinking too deep of Him could even run one mad

He’s as big as, the earth is barely His foot stool
Still could be as small as, speaking through you
Unspeakable is His power
He sees a thousand years as an hour
He brings out mighty trees from little seeds
From human to ants, He feeds

How big could His brain be?
That He knows the numbers of our hair
How deep could He see?
That He reads our thoughts so bare and clear

His being is the meaning of holiness
His breath is called faithfulness
Holy, holy, angels keep calling
In His presence, all knees helplessly falling

Through His fear, Wisdom is born
Therefore to all glory should return
His mercy brings me into better days
His love is spoken to me in different ways

His ways makes me speechless
His works, clean, explicable, and faultless
On both good and evil He shines His sun
Still for both, He sent His son

Mountains and oceans flee at His anger
Yet He never forgets His position as the Father
He delights in making good things better
Since He’s Jehovah ralpha

Two things I can’t comprehend is
He was, He is, and still yet to come
Yet He unconditionally loves someone like me
He sure defines ALMIGHTY.

                                                                                                            - David Omodunmiju

I sit in a forest, with my back against a large oak,
and listen. Among rustling leaves and
whining cicadas I hear something else.
Something larger.

It's moving through the forest on jointed legs,
snapping the branches of century old trees.
An insect the size of a castle. It lets out a cry.
Sounds like a thousand year old whale's
death rattle. The cicadas stop whining and I
shudder.

It's heading to the lake to breed,
or to die. Their kind begins and ends in water.
Very morbid creatures, they are.

I can feel its steps shake the earth as it comes
closer and then I see it. Ten long, jointed legs
support the bulk of the thing. It towers over me,
silver. Its shell is a knight's armour and its red
eyes are the devil's. I stand up in awe of the
colossal bug as it lumbers past me, blocking the sun
and casting me in shadow for a while.

I light a cigarette and listen to it move through the forest.
Eventually, I can't hear it anymore and the cicadas
start to whine again.