• Lorraine Johnson

[7] All Knowing, He Came

He came to me with wings floating in a cradle of raw honey

Walked miles by my side through thick tall forest to see the eye of an elephant

With vessel dry, he dazzled my eyes with water flowing from a dangling vine

From afar, he warmed my soul by his story untold through deepened dark eyes

His heart—large, his eyes ever searching

He was but a man, living in a village

Of earthen huts and grass thatched roofs

Deep in the land of drenched rains and burning sun, where cotton trees grow tall, dense thicket surrounds, and drums beat to a different rhythm

His being, simply grounded in the nature of his knowing soul, walked softly through growing fields—lit by the light of passing moons, bloomed by the heat of a red sun, and greened by the drenching rain of an afternoon passing.

So profound he was—far, far from others living in towers of gold.