Grace Came Down: The Gingko Tree

Golden fans descending like snow,
To meet the yellow pools below;
Curiously silent, yet ever present,
To the one who is aware.

Descending, descending, ever descending,
Bestowing their beauty on those below;
Ever more present, ever increasing,
Ever brightening the world below.

And one dark night we close our eyes;
We rest in ignorance unaware,
Yet in the morning, in its fullness,
Every leaf is lying there - 
Every tree is empty - bare.

And we awake with brand new eyes,
And the Spirit aflame in our hearts,
Like the golden flames at our feet.

The herald has come and gone,
But the gift of grace - the Indwelling Spirit,
Makes us alive,
Makes us fully alive.