the Artist

This silence with it's calming voice beckons me in. It's here that I see clearly, without hinderance, without indulgence. Just my soul, and there, no deeper, yet deeper still, yes there, springing from the very fibers of my core is He. The Lover. The Artist. And with broad strokes He moves, weaving the tapestry of my being with the detail and prudence of a master artisan. It's here that that I am transformed. It's here in the silence that I center my thoughts. Not around and idea, for He is the origin of thought. Not around a concept, for He is source of premise. No, but it is deeper. A calming reality that cannot be fully grasped; a conscious that can only be marvelled. Thoughts, that as lofty and ambitious as they may be, still, are considered but imperceptible when compared to His nature. But nonetheless I am drawn, not by a force of haughty ambitions, but by love. A love woven in the very tapestry of my being. He created me in His image, and it is the Master that beckons me here. I am drawn as a bride to her groom, longing for such intimacy as I have never experieced. And it is from this wellspring of beauty that I delight in. It is this foundation that I am anchored in. He is the origin of all that is lovely, all that is good, all that is. He is the origin of my being, of my soul. And it is here in this silence that I am still, and delight in Him.