Tonight,
The springs of eternity
cast their perfect pearls of rain
upon our windowpane.
Outside,
blackness of the night
casts dim soundings of our worldly plight
splashing faint toccatas
of lonesome drip-drop, drip-drop sonatas
Oh, this just seems like the end of the world,
as I hear rain against our window hurled.
Or . . .
the beginning of something grand
with baptismal sprinklings from some angel’s hands.
Whichever one it is
is up to us to decide.
There is, you know,
deep within our breast
of pilgrim restlessness
a hope—
a desperate pattering of some purpose,
dropping in this midnight rain
dripping with our blood-borne pain;
It persists in thumpish pattering,
oh, such a dreary smattering,
that falls gently in plip-plopping drops
to bring the harvest of our hoped-for crops—
our dreams, my schemes,
here In this autumn’s irrigated ending.
So far we’ve come from summer’s fair beginning.
Now in this darkness of October night
by solitary glow of low lamp light
wired in by human ingenuity
enabled by divine gratuity,
behold this lamp-fire that burneth not;
it merely glows in element, slightly hot.
Oh! but here’s the wonder of my soul!
If I may be so bold—
as to compare this glow, so tame
with eternal Yahweh flame.
I see it burns for me the same
as for our long-gone brother
who beheld some earlier other—
in a bush it brightly flamed
to reveal the ancient I Am name.
Yes, I see it shining brightly
On the table here next to me.
What a wonder to behold!
A phenomenon so very old.
Whether by electricity or flame;
all is powered by Eternal name,
YWHW I AM and I AM again,
always will be,
I can clearly see.
Now you may say that glow came with Edison,
True, but it did originate with Eternal One
who set us spinning ‘round the sun,
after His Big Bang fun.
Tonight,
The springs of eternity
cast their perfect pearls of rain
upon our windowpane,
and I’m aware of Yahweh name;
it glints into our human game
again and again and again.
From time to time
we see it shine.
Ah ha!
Selah.
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