Fields of Praise

" Alas I saw eternity.

It touched my soul,

yet broke it still.

A calm thunder

and a loud rain,

the light shining through,

piercing through darkness,

making me whole.

I felt eternity,

a rushing wind,

an open field

singing praise

to the Lord,

the craftsman,

the sculptor of the hills,

of the bright evening sun

which broke through

those gentle clouds.

With ease it broke through,

with ease He touched my soul,

pieced my very being.

Showed His love to me

and His anger still.

I saw heaven today.

Nay, a brief glimpse

into its reflection

of a passing shadow.

That was all I perceived.

Alone I stood with The Maker,

The Sculptor,

as silent and still as I.

Through the rain He spoke to me.

Through the clouds,

the sun,

those fields of praise.

This He spoke to my soul,

"' Be onward still my child,

yet be still.

This I give to you,

taste it, embrace it

and enjoy it,

yet for now.

For trials come,

pain and agony,

questions and distance."'

"' Yet I have made this for you,

for them.

My love endures,

but my anger yet burns.

My child, this is,

but a whisper of a whisper,

a cloudy image,

of and aged idea.

When compared to

what I desire for you."'

'" Know this,

I made this for you,

so show this mightily to them.

Bring them, nay,

show them the way home."'

I saw the Kingdom today.

O' the beauty,

o' the majesty.

I saw it,

in the fields of praise."