MAKING THINGS

Lost in a process,
taken away absorbed
creating something
living in the spirit and
knowing peace.
Aware that the actions
exist to glorify and grow our souls.
Blowing a blade of grass
pressed between my thumbs
creating sounds that tickle my lips.
A gift that makes me soar in the present
and look back to childhood.
Gathering rocks and shells,
feathers and driftwood
examining their colors and designs
Hours pass yet time is motionless.
Creativity.
We lose ourselves
and exist in a place of reverence.