Snatched from the air what was headed
your and my way, ensnaring and melting
them into the ghostly ploughshare I use
to prepare this common ground
Snatched from the air what was headed
your and my way, ensnaring and melting
them into the ghostly ploughshare I use
to prepare this common ground
Would God but break it down
Love is not a scrubby little power we muster,
a scrambling to order affairs according to our
own perception of goods (that scaffolding we build
to lift our heart to heaven), but rather
concession of the self to the power that would
remake us, were we to allow it, into the giving
person we always hoped we’d be. I say:
Bring it on!