It occurred to me yesterday that I am an abstract … though I drift towards metaphors of pottery and tapestries – the ones that assure me things will All Make Sense in the end.
But maybe they won’t. And probably not in the ways I have spent almost thirty years thinking they will.
Perhaps, In The End, I will be better able to see the beauty smeared in colors I haven’t wanted to paint with from brushes I haven’t wanted to hold.
Perhaps “more” than He is a God of Order, God is a God of Art.
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