The clarity of being

We journey through a land
And to a land
Distant yet close,


My blackbird sings in fresh-green rustling leaves,
‘my’ robin, on a branch beside the brick wall
is an almost camouflaged bundle of tune.
Wholly music and unseen bird,
Cheshire-Cat-like melody replacing grin.

Later, in the churchyard,
I walked through an arcade of birdsong:
plainsong in high places.
When I leave this folate cathedral I observe a man walking by,
ears swathed in all-enclosing noise
and I wonder how we will know when the world stops singing?

I and many talk about thin places:
points where heaven and earth are hardly separated at all.
But that is the miss the point
that Jesus Christ reunites Creator and Creation.
All places are thin places
because in all places the power and love of God are present.

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