The Conspiring Universe

The drops of water from the trees, joining their brethren in a puddle on the  cold cement, ignites a fiery passion deep within my soul.  For they make up my core.  The elements conspired together to breathe life into me; I am the soil I tread so softly upon.  The same molecules that beat within the breast of the wintering chickadee beat also in mine.  When life dies, so does a little part of me, until it is too much for this borrowed life of mine to handle, and I fade away to join the lives which made up mine.  But not yet, for there’s still much to do that I have been assigned to accomplish.  For the universe has a plan, inspired by its own creator.  The heavenly voice has whispered into the ears of the stars, which in turn shouted the commands.  But we, lowly human forms, cannot hear through the jungle of confusion we have tangled through our one living heart.  We’ve spun a web for our own entrapment, and do not fear our own destruction.  Instead we just laugh, never believing.  Truth is told to us all around, but we are crafty.  We believe that we hold dominion over this earth.  Why, the very universe is our walking grounds.  But we live on borrowed time and the universe is the lender.  The stars are our keepers.  Foolish children who think we know all.  But it will only be so long until the lender comes to take what has been borrowed.  Our shaky dominion, which stands as though on quicksand, will be over soon.  For the maker of eternity calls us back, his children.  He says, stop your playing, the earth is weary of your probing and prodding and playing.  Time to come home.  And we, mere specks of matter, will jump up.  Our earthly bodies fading away.  Our true forms, woven of the same cloth as the stars, will spring to being.

About aletalane

I am a learner.
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