End of Exodus

Make all the transformations which the heart shall dictate

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I formed the rivers, shaped the flow of the

water,

pushed the trees to grow upward like giants of

history.

I planted the weeds and their bright, flowery

counterparts.

Dropped the land low and raised it high as

skyscrapers.

Fluffed the clouds like throws and began the

edges

of a city, tilling the ground with a fingernail and

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lifting

the houses like toy soldiers. I made the streets, the

cats

purring in darkness, the arching street lights and the

scent

of fried donuts drifting over the pier. I made the street

benches

and the ink for pens and doodles and the apples that

blossom

like bees. A creation that flows like breath and breathes its

own

life in like the gentle whisper of night dreams. I was a

creature

of creation, of making the beauty of small things, the

might

of big things, the linking that bridged the

seams.

There would be no more wandering in the

wilderness,

no more strangers in a strange land, no more trying to

belong

when the point was to stand out, stand up, and find it

good.