Words of The Lamb magazine

by Shay Schmida

like snails on a garden pathway
like purple thistles on a barren hill
like the wool of a moth’s painted wings
the world lies within the world
swept with the colors of the invisible
and in the way the voices of stones
echo the sound of distant thunder
or how the shape of canyons and gulfs
are the mighty footprints of God
or the coastal islands strung in beads
are His thumbprints pressed into sand
there is much that can be found the same
within the intertwining membranes of time
and the swirling iris of the untouchable cosmos
is the swirling iris of your own light-struck eye.