
I do not apologize that my poems rhyme and adopt forms more popular in the late 19th Century than in the early 21st. I will not apologize for writing about feeling the touch of the Creator, when I walk on a snowy evening and shiver at the delicate phantom touch of snowflakes on my upturned face, or as I savor the rich green shadows of the ancient Estivant pines on a sultry summer afternoon. The universe of those who believe this world just happened by chance must be empty indeed, and cold because all is ruled by the tossing of dice. There is an icy beauty in the concept of a universe driven by probability, but it cannot compare to a universe designed by a loving and powerful Creator. I love a mystery, and there is none greater.
I want to than Martha Dobbs for the beautiful image I used on the page with this poem. Then I want to thank her for reminding me that, politically correct or not, the world is too beautiful to have simply happened. It was created - it just makes sense...
Mick
It Just Makes Sense
His message comes through clearly,
If you listen with your eyes,
To children cared-for dearly,
And to brilliant sun-drenched skies.
His voice is all-surrounding,
If you watch with loving ears.
It's filled with love abounding,
And a light that calms your fears.
Just taste His wondrous incense,
All afloat on spirit breeze,
And smell flavor so intense,
It will bring you to your knees!
See and smell and taste and hear
Life, you love so very much,
And know He is very near,
When you feel His loving touch.
Human senses let you pray,
So very many ways, and
Savor each and ev'ry day,
That you dwell within His hand.
Mick McKellar
November 2007
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