In you, His kingdom. In you, friend,
the realm in which His will is being
fulfilled rhythmically deathlessly irrevocably.
Your identity remains
changelessly distinct and yet
unfolds the infinite
individuality you have.
Like the sea...
Forever each cresting wave
is followed by its sisters—yet
each wave in you breaking now
is never like the last.
Your brightest hours
are Spirit's baptismals that spill
ceaselessly along time's shores.
Your agelessness
is underwritten by His hand
which moves unheard between the stars.
For all things bear His signature.
This day is yours, I say.
To find God's day about you is to
find His seventh day sanctified, to
glide into the high noon of your being.
Lift up your hands, look up! What day is this?
Son of God, this day is His—
is your day, brother—is beautiful.
