In Him All Things
Article voiceover
Call it what you will, vastness peering round the edge chill of recognition at the skirts of maple leaves swirl-silvering the wind— who has knelt beside an Appalachian stream sprawl-splashing genuflections through each dappling beam that breaks begreened onto its face and not gone silent in the holy, holy holy—call it immanence and you’ll be halfway there. Behold the flagon summer fills to spilling with magnificence supreme existence that can’t be contained by such a meager vessel as a blade of grass or glass-winged skimmer tremored through the air or unfathomed universe. What constricts your throat— what springs your eyes when being scribes its manifesto?
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This poem was generated by the author’s human mind. No AI chatbot was used.
The sonic space with cricket sound only adds to the impact.
So many gorgeous moments: "flagon summer / fills to spilling with magnificence" and "glass winged skimmer / tremored through the air." I can see and feel all of it, and the ideas and sounds are equally breathtaking. Truly well done, Mark.