Thrasher's Call

The shelves hold gleaming galaxies, all bound in brilliant weave of many story-threads, inviting me to gaze within their bounds and see their swirling worlds through others’ heads. How many paths these varied souls have trod! How far out-pacing my two feet and eyes! Their countless lenses glint the light of God, who casts His image through their many eyes, And I — how many lives are in my grasp, when I reach to the bookshelf — or the street? Can I, when finding others in my paths, detect the varied glints of light I meet? Or rather, do I, coming back from space, miss the many mirrors of His face?