26 October 2015

Books and Leaves


This world is not conclusion;
A sequel stands beyond,
Invisible, as music,
But positive, as sound.
It beckons and it baffles;
philosophies don't know,
and through a riddle, at the last,
Sagacity must go.
to guess it puzzle scholars;
to gain it, men have shown
contempt of generations,
and crucifixion known.

- Emily Dickinson


Books and leaves. Leaves are they both.

One is a coloured beauty from nature, scattered everywhere at this time of year. One is a man-made collection of leaves bound in books that scatter everywhere all the time, hopefully by sharing good books with one another. It connects us to share in such words.

Leaves of a book contained in a volume work together to bring truth and knowledge. Leaves of trees fall off their limbs and provide a blanket on the ground.

The leaves of autumn show off in their vibrant colours and catch your eye. The leaves of books hide, tucked inside the covers until you pursue the mysteries they hold within.

The beauty of autumn is the beauty that can be found in the fallen things.
The beauty of books is the beauty of fallen authors revealing truth and beauty.

God can show us beauty in all things of His creation. There is a touch of Him there. A glimpse of His imagination and we can only dance upon the brink of it, which is enough to get our own imaginations moving into the realms of our heavenly Father. I love John Donne's meditation where he writes about us as being scattered leaves of pages, that are all of one volume, and one day, all the pages will be bound together again.


... all mankind is of one author, and is one volume; when one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language; and every chapter must be so translated; God employs several translators; some pieces are translated by age, some by sickness, some by war, some by justice; but God's hand is in every translation, and his hand shall bind up all our scattered leaves again, for that library where every book shall lie open to one another.
- Meditation XVII, John Donne

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