The lit-up face of the untempered, all-encompassing joy of a child
The untouched perfection of the snowy white mountainside
The rays piercing through the hoarfrosted branches of winter
The song sung to Jesus with the raspy voice of innocence
The sweet smell of cinnamon on a lazy morning
The moments that capture goodness and beauty
I pause involuntarily to soak them in
Time slows and sounds fade
And everything becomes more significant than it is
The veil thins and things unseen are closer
For a moment I am enraptured
A reflex to knowing
Beyond a shadow of a doubt
That He is near
I see the beauty of the Unseen One
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