Moss Grow Green

I see the moss grow green and gorgeous on the old oak’s trunk. It makes me think of you, my Lord. In these days I feel as though the smallest of insects invites me into worship in awestruck wonder. I wake and a gasp of joy bombards me when I remember your goodness.

As I stumble across the room in the dark of the early morning and flick on the light; the excitement of the day rushes into my mind. It is not that this day is any different, it is rather that I am excited to be alive in your presence again and again every day.

Somebody reveals something incredible about you and tears fall down my cheeks or a smile stretches far across my face. When I dance in worship to you I am so filled with joy I am almost flabbergasted. I want to shout and whip my body round and round a hundred times to express the glimpse of your goodness I see.

I couldn’t express it if I tried. I can’t express even the little part I do see. You are so much more than my happiest of shrieks on a playground swing set. You are more than the tight grasp of a father upon his daughter who lives in a distant land. You are more than the wind in my hair on the mountain overlooking my heart’s new home. You are more than the bright, sweet twinkling stars in the cool night. You are more than a thousand years full of my words could ever even close to fathoming. You are more.


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