The insect moves forward, small steps tipping leaves across the forest floor. A continual search for sustenance and a continuous communion with God. It tastes the various colors of leaf, grass, and soil, taking pleasure in flavors of the season, complimenting and thanking the creator’s laying out, the fashioning, the discrimination, the scentings, and the choices in flora.
The air swirls above, bringing more leaves, seeds, and fliers. Dancing spectrums of light move across the insect’s vision; it feels through the tips of its feet the life flowing beneath the forest floor. Root to root, tree to tree, all connected in an encompassing web of being that encases the globed world.
Down beneath, worms eat and tunnel their way, tubed muscle squeezing through soil, greeting each other with silent love, memory of mud and clay passed down generations…
Brother Joe Dean – excerpt from The Soul of an Insect
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