Our bodies are magnifying glasses.
God’s right arm branches off into millions of smaller arms.
Upon these arms, our magnifying glasses are mounted.
A string is tied to his left index finger.
Our planet is molded to the end of that string,
his marble.
He tugs his marble along,
the weight of it keeping the string taut.
The string and marble off center, crooked,
like him.
Each day our magnifying glasses catch the sun.
Each day our magnifying glasses reach their focal point,
then drown in shadow.
As the seasons pass, our magnifying glasses fall off of his arms,
and shatter.
e: Version 2:
Our bodies are magnifying glasses.
God’s right arm branches off into millions of smaller arms,
branches.
His arms are adorned with our magnifying glasses,
leaves.
A string is tied to his left index finger.
Our home is molded to the end of his string,
his marble.
He pulls his marble along,
its weight keeping the string taut.
The string and marble off-center, crooked,
like him.
Each day our magnifying glasses catch the sun.
Each day our magnifying glasses reach their focal points.
Perhaps our focal points can burn the marble from the string?
Perhaps we can start with God’s finger and end with his string?