Seeds Grown Cold

“ ¹³   Your kingdom is an everlasting kingdom;
your dominion endures throughout all ages.” Pd 145

How does an idea, an experience or an expression of outstretched love endure? How does it endure chaos? Endure through devastating fires? Through cancer?

Is this kingdom a seed, a tree, a fruit, a flower?

It it the shade from the wearying forces?

Is this kingdom tart juices of relief?

Is it an unfolding of surprises; bursts of meaning and majesty, sophistication joined to simplicity? 

Is it a shard of self-contained hope, held captive in its earthly tomb through winter’s weightless vacuum?

Does this dominion exercise its power by letting the seasons reshape the world around it? Will it shape these tumultuous seasons, instead?

What part endures, and how tiny is the shape of that part during the long winters of restlessness that come over the earth?