Cosmic Portal Poem by Judith Vriesema

Einstien called it rapture.
Mozart called it failed genius.
God called it the color blue.
All existing in a dynamic;
unique as the sound of several musicians playing the same symphony;
a small difference in each interpretation.
When the universe began,
it composed a symphony out of silence and numbers.
Man chose clouds as the sequence.
God chose light as the never-ending highway.
And love chose the sound of one breath completing the other.
We chose the silence of midnight amidst an ice storm.
We chose the sound of winter in our dreams
while clover grew in ancient caves between the lava rocks;
waiting,
always waiting for the circle we called home.