Ph: Poetry: God's Kind Of Poetry Poem by Brian Johnston

The finite contemplating the infinite
The stardust male and female still flush with light
From exploding stars, seeding new possibilities, our true progenitors.
So that even God Himself must take note of our passing (in its season) ,
Such elemental purity of spirit, such shining stock do we hail from.

Thinkers cannot grasp the number of galaxies the universe holds
Let alone name them or divine their future, human brains too slow,
More galaxies than all the grains of sand from every beach on the planet.
Where once this metaphor was applied loosely to stars alone,
Now galaxies are what might be counted, counting stars unimaginable.

Oh we are clever and have our tricks to make us look wise,
Like when we prove that one kind of infinity is bigger than another,
But all infinities are truly beyond our ken, mere children who count
‘One, two, three, many, ' and think we have accomplished something.

In our childish wonder we are only newly aware of galactic reach,
Theoretically sure now that our universe does have a furthest edge,
But totally unaware of its dimensions or of its actual shape.
New maps of different galaxy locations in space surprise us too
As the distribution of galaxies follows an unimagined ribbon like pattern.
Galaxies are NOT evenly distributed throughout the mapped universe
But shoot off in flares like star shells on the 4th of July!

We are dreamers who woke one day to discover that once fixed stars
Are now time machines to those with eyes to see, revealing our past,
And to those with ears to hear comes the certain knowledge of the Big Bang.

Now, vision enhanced by scientific revelation, we can share with God,
‘Seek and you shall find, ' being the foundational faith of Science,
The wonders of this creation, several billion years past, naked before us,
As if we were there, reveling in its wonders (though now a cosmic rerun) ,
Sharing a nice glass of Merlot with God in front of His Big Screen,
(The miracle of buttered popcorn always tender, hot, and fresh! Yum!) ,
Looking back to times when even laws of physics had not matured yet,
Laws, which, perhaps, like human beings, still evolve, biding their time.

But tantalizingly fresh is the QUESTION of other universes
Which now skips across the surface of human thought horizon like a stone
Every bounce suggesting another universe's possibility,
And every impact seemingly perfectly elastic, with no loss of energy,
Leaving another new universe in its wake,
Rippling outward like concentric waves from a whale's breach,
On a salt sea/air interface that reflects our astonishment like a mirror!

God's kind of Poetry, a window into infinity,
A scaled down version of Divinity, almost human in fact,
The footprints of God's Son along a sea curving with the earth's surface,
Distant realities always just out of sight, but there still.
Calling us into service, calling us too to be Fishers of human souls,
To love to heights and depths beyond our understanding,
And in so doing, to in fact become God's Children,
Trusting Love, knowing Love, feeling Love, giving Love…
Millions of Prophets, Buddhas, Saints, Poets, all siblings of the Christ,
A living poem, universally true, surfeit of God's imagination,
Novice initiates of a Grace that fills every nook and cranny,
Penetrates all flesh, all bone, and saturates soul like a sponge.