(After Taliesin)

The beauty of the Word made flesh,
Beautiful too that God has made me.
The beauty of wisdom from ages past,
Beautiful too the sound of a turning page.
The beauty of a tree in autumn,
Beautiful too a bare branch against the stars.
The beauty of Rachmaninoff’s piano concerto,
Beautiful too a single note of Bach.
The beauty of a mansion with many stories to tell
Beautiful too the library where new worlds are found.
The beauty of the ocean in its sun-lit splendor,
Beautiful too skipping stones across the water.
The beauty of a joyous wedding anniversary,
Beautiful too the shy glances of those in love.
The beauty of a lively fire against a rainy night,
Beautiful too the glow of a dying ember.
The beauty of silently falling snow,
Beautiful too the melting flakes upon the tongue.
The beauty of a stained glass window in its church,
Beautiful too the smile of a saint.
The beauty of a compassionate teacher in his classroom,
Beautiful too reading under a maple tree.
The beauty of a well-tempered blade,
Beautiful too the moment of “Aha!”
The beauty of sunlight streaming through a window,
Beautiful too the silence of a prayer chapel.
The beauty of mother driving her children to school,
Beautiful too the prayers of a father for his little girl.
The beauty of the hushed awe before the concert starts,
Beautiful too silencing the cell phone.
The beauty of a birthday letter given in love,
Beautiful too the experience of the wise.
The beauty of a conversation with beloved friends,
Beautiful too the last drop of coffee in the cup.
The beauty of vast and starry expanse of heaven,
Beautiful too finding a lost contact lens.
The beauty of cottage covered in snow,
Beautiful too the lighting of a match.
The beauty of poetry read by a melodious voice,
Beautiful too the ascension of Mount Purgatory.
The beauty of prayers said in the morning,
Beautiful too God’s presence when I feel alone.
The beauty of a sturdy old chair,
Beautiful too an old joke between friends.
The beauty of well written Chinese calligraphy,
Beautiful too making the ink from paste.
The beauty of the warm sun upon my face,
Beautiful too the droplets upon the air-con vent.
The beauty of a sun-lit corner of a room,
Beautiful too the room where a holy woman died.
The beauty of a girl laughing in sunshine,
Beautiful too the shape of her hand.
But most wonderful of all is too great for me to tell:
Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of Hosts;
The whole earth is full of His glory!