Snapshots
I
have a photograph tacked
to
a corkboard in my office
of
a nearby river – a paper image
silent,
small and dry;
capturing
a moment, freezing the flow.
Our
perceptions of this world
are
but a string of fixed moments
wherein
we might imagine
a
continuity of sorts
but
our interpretation of such images
is
always, always, always
partial,
limited, fleeting and false.
O
child of God, even our brief, separative lives
can be viewed as
snapshots in the eternal flow of time.
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