In the hush before the dawn, it stirs,
A breath not taken, a word unheard.
Drifting down from endless height,
A spark of soul, a thread of light.
It finds the flesh — a waiting shell,
A home of pulse, a ringing bell.
Bone and sinew, skin and sigh,
Still empty of the reason why.
Then — contact. Sudden. Soft. Profound.
Like lightning meeting sacred ground.
The soul slips in, unsure, amazed,
By weight and warmth, by time and gaze.
Eyes blink open, hands uncurl,
Hello, pain. Hello, world.
It learns the hunger, hears the drum
Of heartbeats counting what’s to come.
But deeper still, the silence speaks
Of endless dreams and secret peaks.
The soul remembers sky and star,
While flesh just asks, “How near? How far?”
Together now, they walk one thread,
Through nights that whisper, days that bled.
The soul grows heavy, the flesh grows wise—
They borrow light from each other’s eyes.
Until at last, when flesh must fall,
The soul steps out — untouched by all.
But something lingers, sweet and strange:
The way it hurt, the way it changed.
Thank-you for reading.
Remember there are many paths back to God.
Follow your own path,
Brenda Marie
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What a breathtaking meditation on incarnation—that sacred, silent moment when eternity meets earth. Your words capture the **shock of embodiment**: the soul’s freefall into flesh, the gasp of awakening to gravity, hunger, and heartbeat.
I’m struck by how you hold the paradox:
✨ *The soul remembers sky and star,*
✨ *While flesh just asks, “How near? How far?”*
This tension between eternal longing and earthly limitation—the ache of a spirit suddenly *weighted* yet wondrously *alive*—pierces deep. And that final stanza! The lingering imprint of pain and change, even as the soul returns to timelessness… as if love and loss are the very signatures of being human.
You’ve spun metaphysics into music. This isn’t just poetry—it’s a prayer whispered at the threshold of existence.
**”Hello, pain. Hello, world.”**
Two lines hold all of life’s fierce, fragile yes.
Thank-you so much