As far I could see, leaves flew like gold dust in the wind.
My sister runs straight into the howling gale. Her voice disappears in the shower of leaves. She imprints a wild picture of faith, being lost and found in something greater than herself.
And how small are we in the grand scheme of things? This cosmic nature, moon dust and mars. Outstretched arms catching handfuls of autumn gold. Chasing shadows, melding words, daring to live genuine lives.
We are quite small, quite small.
When a wild cannon sunset fastens promise to nonsense in a mulled sky- what do we owe but to strive to love? To lose our shadows so we can be found in a greater one?
We carry our shadows, which carry our names, which carry the face of God.
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IV. FLOWER INTO KINDNESS
Above all, love.
(Peter the Apostle)
I shed my words on the earth
as the tree sheds its leaves.
Let my thoughts unspoken
flower into kindness.
(Rabindranath Tagore, adapt. Runestad)
-Into the Light, J Runestad
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