Soliloquy

If I believe not that heaven exists, my unbelief does not refute its existence.
If I turn my eyes away from Him, my lowered gaze does not deny His presence.
If I weep under the trees, my tears fall not onto the dirt, but into His palm; my shuddering cries may exhaust this voice, but will give way to His.

He sits with me, He talks with me.  He picks me up me when I can stand no longer, when I can walk no further.  He carries my burdens as His own.  His steady hands hold my trembling ones tightly.  In this fast-crumbling stage, He is the cornerstone of strength and from whom my courage is drawn.  A foundation that does not shake, that cannot be uprooted. 

When I am left alone in a world populated by twos and threes and groups of five, He comes to share His cup of sustenance with me.  His face is gentle--expression, kind.  He gives me providence.  When I think there is nothing I can offer to anyone, He reminds me that I shine a light for many in the dark.  He makes mention of art.

Though I cannot see Him, and though I cannot touch Him, He is there.
He is there when I call His name.  He is there when I pray.  He is there when I fall ill.  He is there when I am afraid.

Though you cannot see Him, and though you cannot touch Him, He is there.

He is here.