Prose Poem Metaphor
I break bread, it fractures along the grain. Bread is only bread because Jesus named it to explain His flesh. Before the foundation was the Word: Jesus, the Logos. He spoke wheat, and it existed for Him. He spoke rain, and the sky obeyed. All things through Him. All things for Him. The Logos writes His sentences in chemical grammar; Divine syntax holds atoms in place. Even a cat curled on a pillow is a God thought: fur and purr exist for His glory. I chew, and the bread becomes me, but I am not the point. The Cedar tree grew for Him to die upon. Gravity pulls for Him; we benefit. Light is Jesus revealing His nature. Everything from the crumb on my thumb to death’s empty tomb points to a Living God. He is the First Principle and Final Purpose. He is the meaning and the end.
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