Gloryteller

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Gloryteller has returned in the third person, on fire to write.   (Who even missed him or noticed a lack of recent posts?)
He was “on retreat” in The Mountains once more.
He is, once more, humbled.
He is humbled beyond his usual daily state of  humbled-ness.
Unexpectedly.
Surprisedly.
Hiking and climbing  joyously with his youngest son, “College Guy”,
who is such a one that there should be no surprise at being humbled by him — by him and of course by Creator God, Who lets Gloryteller,
and indeed helps him,
do what he can’t do,
go where he can’t go,
see what he can’t see,
and be what, and whom, he can’t be.

As the mountains caught fire, he did too, in the spiritual sense.
Humbled, yet on fire?  Yes, like the lightning-sparked blazes in the forests, it was completely natural.
Fire is a muse to him.
So is driving.
So is hiking.
So is lightning.
And thunder-like-a-cannon is a muse to him.
And sitting on a peak, and watching the clouds, and living a life.
So are many writers a muse to him.  (You might be one of them)
So are extraordinarily ordinary people, and not so ordinary,
like Tim The Waiter, who most likely will never read about his genuine, inspiring self here.
Sources of inspiration —
Muses.
Nothing more than types and shadows of The One Source of his true inspiration.
He’s back, yet still away.
Humbled.
Emboldened.
Muse in his own right.
Blazing with ‘musement.
‘Mazement.
He contemplates.
He ruminates.
He wonders.
He ponders……..

What fire burns there?
What does a muse muse about?

He picks up his flat-keyed ‘pen’ and begins to spark lightning-fires,
His muses prompting, chittering, talking excitedly all at once.

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Father, Son, Pinnacle