Iridescent is the name of the Lord

Nicole Page-Smith, photographs and writing

Iridescent is the name of the Lord

Sun shines down upon us and we shine like the altar for God. Light through church windows would speak less of the light of God than pure sunshine and the sky. Clouds race off once again as though being chased by some god and birds swoop through the trees or land in your garden. Rolling around in the puddles made by rain the birds twitter gaily in the sunshine having a birdbath. The sun shines down upon us as though some outer galactic, "message" of "shine", were being transpired. You feel like you must shine from the inner core of your being like a planet or a star. The friction of the blood rushing through our veins would cause some light so we may glow in the night. The accumulated light of sunshine seems to make us glow during the day or was the illumination, the light of the blue sky. God is our sunshine and we take him to church for luminosity. Do we need to dull our glare? The spirit has a light and the soul a glow. We shine like the plumage of birds.

Iridescent is the name of the Lord.

 

Blue sky and sunshine

 

Nicole Page-Smith, photographs and writing

Blue sky and sunshine

If we had wings we could fly. Flying around the sky we could glide and ride the air pockets like birds. Clouds fly in the sky like birds on the wind but race, race to their hearts content. Is it a race of the clouds for some god or just people thinking that are making the clouds move? Maybe it is just the wind and the wind blows making the clouds race, race around the sky. Rain and gods, thinking and the sky. Puffy clouds become thin wisps to only accumulate and become the wind. Wind and rain gods descend with the ice particles to the ground. Are we the wind or the clouds or just a rain filled day? Clouds would know the answer on a rainy day. If only we were clouds, would we have less of a watery need? Were we human for the sky? Skies and days blow away with the puffy clouds. Only to contemplate the sky we are bird where we need not be cloud for God. God and the clouds, speak.

Cloud-speak for God is our thoughts and the clouds if only we spoke cloud. Do we speak sky? We look at the sky for an answer but the rain fills our eyes as though with tears, maybe the wind made us cry. The dialogue and the clouds is cloud-speak, for gods but do we understand God or the clouds? Seeing faces in the clouds could be inspiration but oh to read the clouds. As though thunder and lightning were words, clouds may speak to one another. You feel your thoughts drifting as though a cloud follows you but to be guided by a cloud, day and night.

Clouds permeate your thoughts and float along as if on a cloud of thinking. There is another day and the clouds blow off to reveal the sky. Blue sky and sunshine.

Puffy clouds

Nicole Page-Smith, photographs and writing

Puffy clouds

Sunshine and birds keep gliding on the air pockets up into the sky. The sunshine reflects the light of air bubbles and wind where clouds are air, full of water, pregnant with rain, the kaleidoscope of light is the spectrum we see. Light, clouds and thinking persist with the sunshine. Clouds and light drift along in wispy streams through the sky, drifting, drifting and catching the light, the water reflects what the clouds long to be, water, again. Oh, the watery ache of the clouds. The joy of the birds in the sunshine out ways all pain as they ride the air pockets to the sky. To be a bird. 

Flying through the sky you feel bird where you should be cloud, drifting. The clouds drift. Do we fly like the birds? Clouds fly through your mind and your thoughts drift like the birds, flying. On really windy days the trees fly around blowing every last leaf to the ground and litter the footpath with twigs and branches. The island weather is perpetual fog, cloud and rain with storms battering the earth then, blowing out to sea. Birds fly to the mountains for protection and forest birds stay in their trees. Clouds of thought fly up the mountains with the birds like you are drifting on a glider, in reverse. If we could only fly like the birds.

Clouded with thoughts and thinking of birds in the forest, the birds chirp loudly as you walk through but there are no other animals. Clouds think with thoughts of thought bubbles in the sky. The thoughts blow off with a windy day. Puffy clouds.

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