Hoar Frost. You don’t need a picture.
Memory does it for you, imbedding words into being.
Yet there are also words with no visuals.
Abstractions like hot and smothered. Sigh.
How interesting that God describes Himself as the Word.
Covering both universe and nothing.
God’s name is not Word, He is Word.
But He has many names.
Is there any honor greater than being named?
being invited in,
winning the draw, finally chosen.
Billions of dirt brown birds,
along with hairs and stars and sand on the beach
and ubiquitous shreds of plastic
gently rolling down a pitted street in Africa
… becoming something.
The Word says I will have a new name in Heaven.
Names, unpronounceable here
no doubt, but I imagine there
one syllable in every name
to be yes.