Thursday, February 3, 2011
I believed I was a pauper, a child of mortals. Through uninspired eyes I saw my world, my life. But upon waking this morning, I was reminded of my true unending heritage. My world, my life, transformed. Once beautiful yet ordinary surroundings of barren slumbering trees, now ebony pillars, buttresses to an endless dome of sapphire sky. Carpets of muted grey and green grasses, now wind etched alabaster and marble underfoot. An expanse of diamond and crystal encrusted glass glitters where the pond had been. And there is a song, a fanfare, born on the wind, and accompanied by twittering flutes and galloping timpani.This is my palace, my inheritance. For my Father is the King. The King is the Creator. The Creator is the artist, the sculptor of my kingdom.