This poem is about the almost inaudible sound caused when we open our mouths. I imagined that sound multiplied 7 billion times as praise to God. That intake of breath is so pregnant with praise and honesty before God. That: about to laugh, or cry, or speak, or sing, or linger a moment longer in withheld opinion, is a pause of praise. And the Father hears the sound and knows his child. And, whatever comes next, I believe that sound; that moment; is praise.
There’s an almost silent sound of praise uttered seven billion times, That resounds in the Father’s ear. Sound fuelled by creative origin of thoughts searching for breath, Searching for ear to hear. Lips part in moment of unguarded impulse, In precision script untethered, In exposure of heart and mind in raucous remark and sorrow’s lament, In a thousand tongues and silence. Sound heard at the ushering of literate laureatation and infantile exploration, Lips ever shaped to worship. How loved is that sound in a father’s ear; And every sound is heard. Whatever follows … that sound is, itself, praise in deed. That first sound of seven billion possibilities of praise. O, that simple sound of being alive, of unique thought birthed, is praise. Ever praise.