Aren't we all caged beasts?

He's there. tiny, but insistent. in every single

in every single

in every single human being on this planet.

in the recesses of our souls, he sits. not passively. always planning. always praying. always longing.

the bars around him made of iron, or maybe straw. it doesn't matter. caged. a gracious beast.

caged.

each day he wakes and chips away at his stolen throne. cuts at its hinges, lances the straw.

bursting, writhing.

praying.

longing to break out. not to dominate, but to radiate. not to destroy, but to save.

he waits. and waits. and waits.

he knows he can break through in one breath. but that would forsake love. because you can't make someone love you without negating free will.

he continues. each day he looks around and says, "this world is not my home." his home is freedom, his home is life.

one day we will find him, sitting in a dark corner. he will look up expectantly, tears in his eyes.

we will free him.

and we will fly.

Creation

There were two people who prayed. Begged. God heard.

Or maybe there was just one person who prayed, begged. God heard.

Or perhaps no prayer was tossed up at all. Just a mistake, a slip up. God still heard.

So He woke each day. Took the pungent dirt in his hand, the rich soil. began to mold, shape. He took leaves and dreamd hair, flowers to fashion color. Tree bark - bone. Breathed each cell into existence.

placing each bone with careful attention. his saliva - tendons. He cupped water from his oceans to fills eyes. darkening or lightening as his heart desired. seashells for teeth.

he wasn't satisfied. so he stopped. perhaps he prayed, sang, dreamed of a time that he would dance with.

he came back. hours upon hours to hone, master it. he counted each leaf. measured each cup of soil. when the frame was complete, tears filled his eyes. he longed so badly for a dance, but perfection was not yet reached.

He slept. waking up each hour to check on creation, its formation.

the next morning, he knew the time was near. creation was nearly complete. he stood and prayed and kissed, breathing in his spirit, his life, his love.

and those two people felt the baby move. its kicking. knew that life would never be the same.

and 9 months later, God's creation was birthed. no mistakes, no do-overs. perfect.

Each time we touch one another, we touch his palm. Each time we look in the mirror, God smiles because he remembers how he toiled and labored to fashion that nose, the eyes, that smile.

"Naked" is not a matter of sex or reproduction. It is a state of grace, awe of what God has done.

We are not our own. Our bodies are sacred, temples of God, his life and breath swell and move within.

So yes, love yourselves. Not because that's the right thing to do, but because that is the only response to perfection.