Primitive religion is not believed, it is danced!

Arthur Darby Nock

Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
And only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.

Elizabeth Browning

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

Hope against hope

In the quiet of the morning
I sit
and watch the sun
inexorably conquer the shadow
assaulting the darkness of the woods
it is a time to think
of life
and love
this day
I look at myself and wonder
whether I am still viable
I look at my heart
and it feels like there are pieces missing
as if parts have been pulled away
leaving something incomplete
barely capable of beating
of filling me with llife
my soul is tired
and my
mind is swirling chaos
of things done and left undone
a tumultuous chaos
of names and tasks
and hope?
I dare not hope again
and yet the sun
once again rises
and once again marches
into the darkness
perhaps this tattered life
held together with 
spiritual duct tape
and bailing twine
this fragile
can walk through one more day
and see the sun rise
and feel the darkness

Against all hope, Abraham in hope believed   Romans 4:18

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