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Gold, magenta, burgundy, sepia, burnt orange, bronze, crimson, changing, falling, living, dying innumerable leaves, set on a silvery backdrop.
It's all so painfully beautiful,
I have to close my eyes to keep my tears from spilling over and drowning me.
I can barely contain the beauty inside of me,
I feel my chest expand to try to make room for this sight, and I can't help but think,
This is what God looks like.
Delicately woven piano chords dance in my ears, followed by a foamy wave of voices, singing a sweet hallelujah.
The sound rises up to the ceiling, and breaths up and down like and eternal being,
My own voice falls and rises with it,
I have to stop and bite my lip to keep from letting my tears spill over, dissolving me in weeping,
It's so perfectly arranged,
I can't help but thinking,
This is what our Maker sounds like.
There's no comparing, no denying, that he is here, that he is living it's written in the stars that shine so infinitely, only he can number them,
The story of his everlasting love is told in a father's choked sobs when he first holds his daughter, and it is retold in her laughter, for years to follow.
He is undeniably, unattainably glorious,
And the very best part is, he loves us.
I can't rap my head around how wonderful he is, can't understand it, can't even try,
He is higher, mightier, loftier, bigger, stronger, than anything I can imagine,
When I look up, into the sky, observe its vastness, and picture heaven, I feel so small, so insignificant,
But to him, I am the world, he knows me inside and out, and has never doubted my purpose,
And that thought feels like flying.