spring has blossomed

Spring has blossomed, and quite literally: all the trees around campus have finally broken and flowered. The trees are blossoming, the sun is radiant, the birds are singing, and God is good. The abrupt nature of spring’s breaking always reminds me, and I have written of this before, of the restoration of the universe. We live in a world that is saturated with darkness, but dawn has come, and the day is approaching. A day will come—swift as warhorses, sudden as a lightning bolt, and as transforming as heat and pressure upon metamorphic rock (curse geology)—when the entire world will be turned upside down, and the Day will finally come, and the universe will be restored, and just as the trees blossom into flowering petals, so the universe—with galaxies and stars and planets and mountains and streams and beaches and rivers and animals and microbes—will blossom into its original beauty. I long for this day, yearn for this day, a day when pain and suffering will be no more, a day when we will receive new bodies and a new world to inhabit. Spring, in a sense, affirms what I believe to be true: that such a day is coming, and though the night is dark and seems to never pass, the dawn is breaking, and Day will come.