The One Whom Watches

The One Whom Watches

Our life, a beautiful dream, a sonnet played through the ages. The wonders of the universe only a grasp away. As we strive to reach the eternal. We claw towards the heavens for bliss. When you touch a hair of God what is earth. Is it not but a spinning rock in the ether? A pebble in an ocean. Here it sits teaming with life and wonder. As I sit and ponder I see the melody play so swiftly. The well-orchestrated piece ordained by God. Is it not a song from the heavens The whimsy abounds, are our lives but a music box to our celestial guardians. To enjoy to adorn. Just as an artist sits in awe of his works even the creator has become bewildered and touched by his own creation. How so does he dream? How are we to reach such heavily states. Must we open our eyes to the amusement and wonder of life. To touch God and find bliss.

We continuously spinning as we ride through space. Where are we going? How small and fragile the universe, this world. Like a glass Marinette he pulls the string ever so slightly with such poise. Who are we to claim anything other than insignificance and folly. We, waging war of heart, mind and spirit. The shame to see one's self through the eyes of God, the shame of being oh too human, we made of dust and clay. What place do we hold other than sheep of a purposeful creator and great protector?

Do not stray little ones the wolves are at play. They dance around the fires all too giddy for the lusts of passion ready for desire. They take those whom wonder out in search of the fresher waters. They sit in wait in the tall grasses. For they may strike, but they wait till the fall of night and under the light of the moon for they hide from their own actions. Whom is to protect you when out of the sight of the great protector. There smiles gleam with anticipation. They see and peer as the delicate one sits nibbling on the satisfying primroses unaware. Its beauty and purity is its own adornment. They creep in the fall of night. To pounce, nay to watch, for they do not wish to fill their bellies but their lustful hearts. Continuing to surround encircling. They nip at her heels as she screeches. She cries out to the great void no one to watch her fall from grace. They laugh and cackle as they continue to dash around her to cut off her paths. The leader sliding out in front a trail of dust trailing behind slowly settling. He in front of her delicate weary face. Oh, but doesn't he underestimate her strength for she is not afraid. The silence as deep as the darkness of the night. Only the moon to shine upon her once fluorescent fur coat, now coated with the deep passions of her own desires the scarlet dripping down her gentle face swirling with the tears of regret. The wolves' wide eyes peering into her soul his yellows glistening and lips curling. He dashes at her throat tearing her down with such great force. A final Sickening call escapes from her soul... They do not eat... they dance in the blood. The Simple Shepard hearing her cry, but knowing it oh too late. He sheds a tear and tends to his flock.