The idea of sound
has always been
one of my favorites.

To watch fireworks
as they hit the top of an inky black sky
and shudder delightedly at the boom that follows.
To touch the frosted window
as the snowflakes dissolve into teardrops
and hear the howling of the wind as it kisses my cheeks.
To leap into
a heap of fire-tinted leaves
and hear the crunch as well as feel it.

Sound has always been
my favorite sense,
but I stand in awe and admiration of the people
who make it their favorite fantasy.

To be captivated
by the darkened thunder clouds
and understand their frustration
of some misfortune here below.
To watch a bird
singing, perched on a budding branch,
and wonder of the songs inside her.
To leap into
a heap of fire-tinted leaves
and take in the smell as well as feel them.

I know there are sounds
too wondrous to describe.
And it pains me to know
that some cannot share in them.

Though I have always loved sound,
the idea of redemption
has become
my favorite.

To read a promising verse
as it bubbles to the surface of a well-worn page
and breathe delightedly that it is meant for me.
To touch the frosted window
as the snowflakes dissolve into teardrops
and know that my own will someday be wiped away.
To be captivated
by the roaring thunder clouds,
sensing the power of the One who works all things
for the good of those who love Him.
To hear a bird
singing, perched on a budding branch,
and smile that she was created so lovingly.
To leap into
a heap of fire-tinted leaves
and hear the crunch as well as feel
the joy of the life I have.

I stand in shock and sorrow of the people
who believe it a simple fantasy.
I know there is a grace
too wondrous to describe.
And it pains me to know
that some do not share in it.

The wonder of sound
and the wonder of redemption
collide
in the words:
β€œHe who has ears to hear,
let him hear.”