Inside, nestled into a corner of the brain, lies a chapel tucked away just in case we need it. Tear ducts have been installed for weeping, fingers for pointing, painting, sometimes pinching. When glee or ecstasy overtake us, we are provided outlets for dancing or singing. On those long dark days of need, there is our inner chapel, deemed by some “the God gene.” Why not?
the wind blows unseen
fireflies dance in synchrony
painter of sunsets
NANMYKEL.COM 
The mysteries of god are such a fascinating phenomenon. You’ve captured from the picture a moving prose poetic feel about our world and the universe.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Charlie. I felt really good writing it!
LikeLiked by 1 person
🙂 You welcome, Nan. Whatever the heart feels like writing the heart and soul must write to release of what us humans feel.
LikeLike
Hi Nan. I love this post.
LikeLike
Thanksso much, Petru!
Nan
LikeLiked by 1 person