G: SIGNS

SIGNS

Eyes of corn flatten,
Midday sun streaming down,
Invisibly pressed into circular pattern.
It was almost like a miracle,
Wind purred around almost lyrical.
A code from an unseen workload?
It ordained they're waiting to be discovered.
I would spend many hours staring,
Ponder unwinding almost spellbinding.
Maybe this was a rudder in the divine helmsmen's hand,
His way of self-expression in the exalted hours.
To blazon his greatness within natures towers.
Or was this a spacecraft that press upon us?
The more I deem the more I become aware,
How infinite is truth.
Lessons to learn as deep as the ocean,
Swept along in mysterious of motion.