The stilled soul of the contemplative
seeks Him in the quiet of a soft snowfall,
or in the grandeur of a multi-hued sunset,
or from the solitude of reading poetry in an empty church.
And, indeed, He is there.
Yet acknowledging God’s essence–and His command–
and considering that love is never alone,
perchance the search for Him begins (and ends)
in another’s chaos.
[insert love here]