Stare in awe at the perfection,
at everything both great and small,
in a spiraling direction
of the one who made them all.
The hurricanes and galaxies
and our DNA and snail shells
the vapor that a mystic sees
and all the stories that he tells:
They rise to God in perfect form
ascending Jacob's spiral stair.
Make order of the chaos norm
to sing sweet worship at his chair
Coincidences, so they seem,
but as each one does its duty,
they fall as the Creator deemed
to become a thing of beauty.
The flaws or errors one might see
when veiwing through the veil of doubt;
the wrinkles that there seem to be
will perfectly be ironed out.
Despite confusion in our hearts
things go just as predirected.
For thoe things that we know in part
will all one day be perfected.
cc 1999
Benjamin J. Cline
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