9/30

I wonder
after the seven days God used to create the world
The 8th was a time He had a moment to Himself
to think
to reflect what He had just completed
wondering what should've been omitted or deleted
on the 9th day of the first month He ever created
God may have just sat to write
enjoy the beautiful day He created and the wonderful night
He wrote on top of the stars and used the darkness of space as ink
God wrote in His own journal
pages constructed from the earth, binded by the trees
lines of loves marginalized by eternal memory
scripting in every language He fathomed would exist
The perfect poem
from the perfect being
The all seeing
all knowing
Intelligence forever growing
On my 9th day I look out at what He fabricated for me to appreciate
His journal probably has millions of words never even uttered
scribbles and errors,
mistakes and digressions
never existed until humans graced the planet
God probably wrote at the speed of sound
and thoughts traveling at the speed of light
He needed no incite
He never grew tired from writing, or weary for inspiration
His dedications to love
intended for motivation for us
He was the first poet
blessing lines unmarked by time