The grasses are saying, "May the glory of God endure forever; may God rejoice in his works." (Psalm 104:31)
A voice is saying, “Cry!”
But I say, “What shall I cry?”
All flesh is grass.
All its grace like the flower of the field.
Grass withers, flowers fade
When the breath of God blows on them.
Grass withers, flowers fade
But the word of God endures.
(Is. 40:6-8)
I've heard it said, "Every blade of grass has its own angel urging it to grow." What happens to this angel when the grass withers? Does it move on to another assignment? Does it wither? Is it transformed? Does it melt back into a wondrous grassy oneness?
ReplyDeleteA meadow is a wondrous thing. Once upon a time while sitting in a pasture yearning to hear the angels singing the grass green, a knowing hovered about me. "Keep listening," it tingled to me, "But its all about the yearning not the hearing."
The angel of a blade of grass dissolves, in the end, into a green wisp that leaves behind a faint, sweet odor.
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