In a dream the other night I witnessed a white blanket of cold softness untouched and pristine. This pure and unadulterated landscape created a sacred sanctuary for me. Within this frozen silent landscape I could listen to the communiques from beyond and within. Here I found the language of God and the language of God is silence. So on these cold and foreign snows it was silence that I heard and peace that I felt. Such were the circumstances that I was experiencing on this remote planet that my dream had taken me to. The dark black cryptic heavens above me were splashed with jeweled orbs of every color of the spectrum. Everywhere was the handiwork of God. His touch was felt from the smallest of quantum particles to the most massive of galaxies, nowhere was His presence not felt. Swirling gaseous clouds of yet unborn stars bedazzled the sky as they awaited their opportunity to ignite. I was witnessing the unfolding of eternity. I was experiencing moments being born and witnessing these new moments being cast into the vastness of the universe. Then these far flung moments began to coalesce and to create the present and the present became the tip for the arrow we call Time. Then gravity's pull became apparent as orbits of precision were created for a multitude of nascent planets. Nothing was overlooked. Everything was purposeful and right as this majestic pageantry was unfolding before my awestruck gaze. Such is the enduring power of the Creator that each of His creation, no matter how infinitesimal or how large, did not escape His loving touch. I knew that I belonged and that I was as integral part of this ever unfolding munificent spectacle. How could it be that one so small, such as myself, placed against the backdrop of the Cosmos be so loved? Then I remembered a mystical moment that I had experienced long long ago under a tree by the shore of the lake where I live. On this tree was a branch overhanging the lake. The raindrops from the recent storms were gently falling into the water. I thought that it is not difficult to understand that the falling raindrops would soon become part of the lake. But then I penetrated more deeply into the silence of my soul and understood that the lake, itself, had now become a part of the raindrop as well. visionary imagist "Joey"