There are those who claim that miracles do not exist,
That there is only science,
And facts that are palpable;
What can be measured and quantified.
And what of the magic behind the science?
What of the alchemy that nourishes the atom?
What of the energy fields that dodge, and side step the experts,
That Impulse still unknown by science,
That generates the phenomenon of life?
A single flower is born and expands,
Following the path of the universe,
It springs forth and multiplies into petit flowers.
Like stars and galaxies in the infinite night sky;
A universe that bloomed one good day,
And now it expands in time and space.
And what of the universe contained in that flower?
What of the miracle that produced such a wonder?
What of the prodigy that brings us such beauty?
The universe is a canticle to the miraculous,
A visual spectacle for those who stop,
And look, and see the miracle,
They who breathe the miracle,
And they who live the miracle.
A flower intones its song,
A riot of petals emanating praises.
In a gesture of spherical euphoria,
They extend into the Imperishable;
And yet the blind insist:
There are no miracles …
July 24, 2017