Ever Yes

I see now the way you drew the land into being,
carving fjords and polishing mesa’s with callused hands,
making everything feel new and eternal at the same time.

Then you coaxed leafed things from dirt,
conjuring the first deep green,
rich with the promise of life.
I know your warm breath encouraged it
as your mothering spider hands
primped each cell.
Later a wind that had never flown before
caught seeds and carried them to untouched places.

Many people think this happened with the majestic swirl of a giant hand bigger than the galaxy,
but I see in your work the patient tending of someone who hums to themselves a slow symphony that must be kept time with
as they knit and mend,
chisel and sand,

patience.

You worked with the sureness of someone who knows that large things
are no more important than small things,
and that all things are possible,

patience.

You have not given us a place wanting for room or excitement or energy.
We are only now discovering what lies between the folds of space and matter,
already we have found more than we hoped to see.
Is there even such a thing as a beginning or end in a universe like ours?

Are you the builder and commander?
Are you the hand of God that we must bow to and worship,
as so many people say?

No, I think you are something much more amazing
than all of those tiny ways of seeing you.

You are a question asked over and over again -
“can all of this really be?”
And you are the answer, over and over:
“Yes this can be. This and so much more. Yes.”
Again and again,
without finality

ever

yes.