Visions

 January 27, 2025

So, the Lord wakes me out of nothingness. I do not know he is the Lord. He looks like a beautiful youth to me. We are in a garden, surpassingly beautiful. He says, “Will you tend my garden?” I fall down upon my knees. When I am done giving thanks, I rise up to tend the garden. 

What if all things rise to a point severe and exquisite as a single molecule of diamond? 

What if in our last stumbling steps we see of a sudden the pattern of all, so intricate there was no keeping track of it while we bore the burden of life, but, on the last few tiles before the Door, revealed in such complexity and majesty we must cry out, as a baby being born.

I go to my little pond to feed the fish. The pond has been swallowed by a wide sea under moonlight, under the full moon setting the waves ablaze. Far out, Leviathan aims for shore, aims for the place where I stand, ready to take the morsel from my hand. 

The bird that flutters to my hand is a great hawk of the Zenith. His eyes pierce. His talons close around my hand. I am fearful for a moment, until I perceive he is lifting me. Lifting. 

The praises which have fallen from my lips have become blue flowers. I step out of a dark wood and see rolling meadows of blue flowers, stretching way to blue mountains, which are the Mountains of the Lord.