Would that I were born a tempest, a gust of wind, a drop of rain, a ray of sunshine. Would that I were a prayer uttered from pious lips and broken hearts, that I may drift upwards to the object of all longing, heartless and tearless.
Monday, October 17, 2016
Thursday, October 6, 2016
A prayer
God, to myself give me thyself.
See me, know me, feel me.
See, know, feel my pain and loss.
To myself, give me thyself.
Nothing less will satisfy.
I wait in bitter and demanding silence.
There is a small part of God in every sweet little cookie.
There is God in goodness.
In goodness, God is given.
Where there is good, God is given.
God is in goodness.
Where I am good, God is in and with me.
Where good is done, God is breathed.
In goodness, God is given.
Of thyself, give me. Give me thyself in goodness. May all the days of my life be awash in goodness, not by the strength of my own will, but in your burning, eldritch presence in my heart.
Amen.
See me, know me, feel me.
See, know, feel my pain and loss.
To myself, give me thyself.
Nothing less will satisfy.
I wait in bitter and demanding silence.
There is a small part of God in every sweet little cookie.
There is God in goodness.
In goodness, God is given.
Where there is good, God is given.
God is in goodness.
Where I am good, God is in and with me.
Where good is done, God is breathed.
In goodness, God is given.
Of thyself, give me. Give me thyself in goodness. May all the days of my life be awash in goodness, not by the strength of my own will, but in your burning, eldritch presence in my heart.
Amen.
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