Wednesday, September 9, 2009
At the Top of the World
At the top of the world, roads look like toothpicks. Forests of trees become moss. Boulders are pebbles. People are insubstantial, insignificant.
At the top of the world, you can see where God took a scoop out of the hillside with a giant hand, and scattered pebbles along the way, sifting them through his fingers.
At the top of the world, you can dance with the clouds, breathe them in, breathe them out. Watch them swirl over a ridge.
At the top of the world, you can see the land, the sky, the curve of the earth cradled in the palm of the heavens.
I know. I was there.
Posted by Ginger Johnson at 4:44 PM