A Sliver

A hotel room.  I sit in a sliver of sun, curtain cracked.  It is quiet, the hum of everything barely audible.  It is good that the sun was made; for even a sliver of it is enough to alight Your word and my world and You, as if by magic, awaken me to wonders untold.  My world, so dark moments ago, can by a sliver, be illumined to the whole cosmos. 

I spent yesterday at Daytona Beach walking the haunts of a misspent youth.  I have not been here since I came with Danny Taylor, 37 years ago.  I was so young and immortal, illegal and wasted.  Yesterday I hobbled alone down the beach thinking of how I use to run for display, agile and lithe, exhibited like the legend in my mind.  Today the legend has long been put to grave and replaced by goodly sons and daughters.  The trade, bittersweet, but the value is without price.

There is a depth to man that makes the cosmos seem like a shallow shadow.  This depth is explored only by holding the hand of God, a sliver though when juxtaposed against eternity.