All your images of winter
I see against your sky.
I understand the wounds
That have not healed in you.
they exist
Because God and love
Have yet to become real enough
to allow you to forgive
The dream.
You still listen to an old alley song
That brings your body pain;
Now chain your ears
To His pacing drum and flute.
Fix your eyes upon
The magnificent arch of His brow
That supports
And allows this universe to expand.
Your hands, feet, and heart are wise
And want to know the warmth
Of a Perfect One's circle.
A true saint
Is an earth in eternal spring.
I see against your sky.
I understand the wounds
That have not healed in you.
they exist
Because God and love
Have yet to become real enough
to allow you to forgive
The dream.
You still listen to an old alley song
That brings your body pain;
Now chain your ears
To His pacing drum and flute.
Fix your eyes upon
The magnificent arch of His brow
That supports
And allows this universe to expand.
Your hands, feet, and heart are wise
And want to know the warmth
Of a Perfect One's circle.
A true saint
Is an earth in eternal spring.
Inside the veins of a petal
on a blooming redbud tree...
on a blooming redbud tree...
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