The lens passed over word and type,
A wave of big and small.
Excited now, the smallest fought,
To gain perspective tall.
The “T”s on tiptoe, “J”s down low,
The “W”s spread their arms.
And in the corner, just a speck
– Fullstop. Raised its alarm.
The voice arrested, took a pause,
Through torrents of “A”s and “O”s
A time to think, commanded to stop,
– Fullstop. Interrupted the flow.
The old man caught; his breath, a mist
His eyes glazed over now.
The fleeting thought; the lasting light,
Let out a deafening howl.
Fullstop. A pause. A sense of rest.
The old man stopped to breathe.
A glimpse of peace, of rest in God,
He suddenly felt relieved.
These words of grace, of goodness burned
Within his tired soul.
The smallest mark, one jot, one tittle,
Released all heaven’s flow.
Upon his knees now, arms outstretched,
The old man took his shelter.
Then shaking like a thunderstorm,
God’s grace began to pelter.
The letters fell, their mission done,
The pages smiled, still open.
The magnifying glass aglow
With life so freely spoken.
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