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

Monday, September 9, 2013

We survive, together

“Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: "What! You too? I thought I was the only one.”
― C.S. Lewis

Life is hard
Winds of life
And we are
Blown by the winds
Tossed by the waves

In our fragility we often get broken.
and, like bottles tossed carelessly to the side of the road.
we lie shattered, in pieces,
jagged fragments glistening in the sun
raw edges, sharp and tortured.

There are pieces of us scattered
along the roads we have traveled

In our brokeness we are empty.
Joy comes
but cannot be contained.
It seeps through the cracks to disappear.
Love comes
only to go,
and hope  --  there is no hope
for one so broken.

And yet,
and yet sometimes,
hope comes.

In a smile, in a touch,
in conversations lasting long into the night,
Piece by piece the metamorphosis begins,
and out of the jagged jumble the first faint glimmerings of wholeness grow.
a thing of beauty....
how can such battered creation be beautiful?'

And yet it is!
For all its seems and cracks,
the wonder of what it was, and is, and still might be,
shines through.
and deep in the murky depths love comes
and stays

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