A lion in Hwange National Park, Zimbabwe

Amidst the Flowing Lion’s Mane of Wheat

Have I exalted Thee?

In times of trials have I magnified Your name?

When was the last time I simply thought of You, a higher being?

I find fault in the stars as ours is a fate to live and die,

our lives become dust as dust is what we are.

I walk along a boulevard of towering trees and see Thee

in every twig, in every trunk that reaches up to You, even

each vein of outstretched leaf.

I look at the clouds that give relief as they sweep

across the valleys, their shadow dims whole fields, 

immense angel’s wings,

fanning the crops lest they shrivel and shrink.

Your rain feeds the land and creates life from the dirt.

The soil is Your gift, and is fed

with the reality of death, and all life’s forces

sustaining the earth for us to till.

Your glory is seen amidst

the flowing lion’s mane of wheat.

Your way is a higher path than that of just the land.

I see you shining within the stars on a moonless light, and

wonder, how many suns have You blessed?

Of course, they are all Yours in the end,

You create everything and in anything that’s rend.

A planet’s upon Abraham’s alter,

ready to lay down its life for us, a sacrificial world,

with no qualms to make the heavens part,

to cleave with God, without question, to impart

Your glory throughout the stars.

Are You the God of aliens that live on Venus or on Mars?

Do they have a Genesis and an Exodus?

Do they crave Your heart as I long for Thee?

Do You fly through the heavens,

a primordial Midas, Your touch

creating the gold of life, giving the gift of sentience?

A pinball God richochetting off the worlds,

with a plink, plink, chime as You bounce

off the planets, tilting the game of life.

Where am I when I pray?  Am I amidst

the springs and screws that make the heaven’s swirl?

God and Your beings, You are magnificent!

A wondrous Lord that raises the heavens,

giving a path out of the darkness of night,

even when we forget to remember who You are.

A perfect morning has begun,

the river’s painted with a reflection of the early morning’s light,

tinges of watercolor hues slightly shivering,

each leaf, each weed, each tree is Yours.

I sing Hallelujah! Hallelujah!

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About Lisa Tremback

I started writing in Elementary school and was published in school and local newspapers. I graduated from Columbia College in Chicago and studied under the poet, Bill Knox. I have been published at Colorado State University's underground newspaper. I enjoy writing almost every day and love to write about my relationship with G-d.

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