Sometimes the world seems too beautiful to ever begin to express. Moments of seeing something far beyond what could be captured in a photograph, a painting or words. It's about being there, being in it. And it's the contrast of those precious moments to everything else that surrounds it. The absolute peace of it. I had one of those moments last week.

The sky was an enormous blanket covering me, and the most beautiful thing I could imagine. The colours looked brand new. And the clouds seemeed to have been placed delicately and perfectly in incredible lines and shapes and patterns that went beyond where my eyes could reach and seemed to hint at something bigger and wider, more all-encompassing and timeless.

And then, in a moment that made me draw in a breath, birds appeared from somewhere, I couldn't even guess how many, and they were forming v-shapes, moving together as entire shapes, changing and dancing until the perfect formations were made.

This needed to be taken in, not glanced at. I longed to take it in, and then to be able to express it. There was frustration at knowing that if I had time and stillness and the openness to let it fully be absorbed then I would be overwhelmed by it's awsomeness. By His awsomeness.

But there is peace and delight at being able to glimpse just a piece of it. At being taken in and held for a moment by the beauty. At hearing a voice in it all, a reminder of what is always there and is forgotten and ignored.

The moment isn't meant to be the end. It's not meant to be stayed in. It's to be taken into the everyday and the ordinary. To be internalised. To allow myself to be changed by it and then to move on. To come back down, but to remember how things looked from the peak. I longed to remember. To stay with that perspective.