Mote of God
Poem for Day 344 – 20151211
A mote of God's blessing in hand,
beauty's potential for my fellow man.
How do I know I have touched
another soul distance yet close at hand?
Dancers glide across life's stage
bodily motion without any peer.
Musicians instruments alone
speak a language more perfect in refrain.
Poets frame the world they do see
motion and song revealed in the beauty.
Recognition is returned
with words stretched across the universe.
So mote it be they do exclaim,
the divine smiles back on a fellow man.
© 2015, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved.