Extraordinary forms
So many masters in the world
promising liberation. I belong to the One
Who declared Himself
liberated from all promises.
Down to the bitter dregs,
now the real work begins.
Nostalgic for that moonlit garden;
the fragrance of His sanctuary ...
but, the artist sculpts in a studio,
far from the garden’s pedestal;
no slaughterhouse in a field of lilies,
nor butcher’s table beneath the pergola.
Love takes extraordinary forms –
disillusionment, grief, chaos, despair.
He gives us fair warning –
not for the weak, nor the faint-hearted.
O child of God, the One Who seems so far away,
is at your elbow, sword in hand.
(from A Jewel in the Dust)
(from A Jewel in the Dust)
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