He sat as it were, with nowhere to sit, <br />and with nothing that sat, and with nothing that did. <br />He blew bubbles as it were, with nowhere to blow; <br />with only His love they were made, <br />with only His breath did they grow. <br /> <br />Each bubble a cosmos, a home as it were, <br />they never would meet, <br />they never each other would find, <br />with no time to exist and no place to reside. <br />Not in any way separate were they <br />from His love and His grace which had made them that way. <br /> <br />He spoke as it were, and no sound did He make, <br />but I heard all that He said in all that He had made. <br />I awoke as it were and fell deep asleep, <br />in a bubble, He said, full of His love and His grace <br />because, as He said, He had made me that way.<br /><br />David Taylor<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/as-it-is-5/
