"Eye Has Not Seen, Nor Ear heard..."

... the marvels of a world we can only try so hard to make sense of, like someone lost in a storm at night looking for a lit cabin in the thick woods.

Last night I had a dream about my grandma, almost a month after her passing. A dream I can't really remember any other details about. It keeps playing peek-a-boo with me, I think I catch a glimpse, then it's gone the next second. But as I play the dream game, I can't help it wondering how is it where my grandma is now. Is "now" still valid? Maybe in her dimension, time is measured in the blooming of a rose... A hundred blooming roses make up a garden, a thousand gardens make up a forest, a million forests make up the concept of green, or even better, they define one summer. Summers dance in a perfectly round circle, and a trillion circles form one breath of God. His one breath instantly becomes a multi-dimensional, trans temporal world where God is.

Magnificent.
Luminous.
Mighty.
Loving
Always.

Somewhere down below, we dip our fingers in green and paint some grass on the small earth we call home, sprinkle fireflies on it and red ladybugs with black dots, fill our lungs with air, call it wonderful and fix our eyes on the canvas of stars above.
How small we are, and how incomprehensible and uncontainable is the universe He holds in His right hand, with ease.