Beauty in the raw

 

Rain pouring down.
In the cold gray.
Beauty in the raw.
And in the cold.
A morning.  A season. 

Layers.  Of life.

And for a short while.
In the early.
Frantic slows.
And time morphs.
Into a river; slow and gentle.
By which to sit.
And be still.

And in the sifting.
Through the layers.
Of hours lived busy.
Cacophony of worry yelling.
Frantic attempts thrashing.  
And confusion filling. 

Raw.
Bubbles up to the surface.
And sits on my lap.
Staring at me.
And I laugh.  No longer afraid.
Seeing the truth.
Experiencing grace.
And it's all okay.

Needing nothing more.
Than the being still.
And knowing.

He is God.

Redeeming the madness.
And the rain.  And the cold.
And the seasons falling hard.

Layers.  Of life.

Giving us beauty in the raw.

And rain pouring down. 

Beautiful.