In the beginning were the Words, blessed are the roots of these Everlasting Spuds. You are all around us, invisible Creator, our forefathers and Mother Nature call you God. These clouds speak of you, however uneven they are next to unknown abysses and gravity or odd.
Suspended and still into these skies, are those clouds. Blue sky that turns black and grey, author of snow, bless our union since we are blood.
Grey skyline that unleashed perilous tsunamis, writing away our sins, you know they were encapsulated; please look at the pods!
Abysmal truth that transitions this Dark soil into flesh and blood, you are Truth because you give breath to mere Humans; their structure is mud.
Waters that quickened out well known hungers, wash away these ignorant souls; here is true knowledge that was bestowed after that flood.
The Spirit of our Saving Redeemer pushes us above and beyond the above and beyond; it’s been a long time coming, Eternal Flower Buds.
© Christian D. Koumtog.