Thursday, December 8, 2011

it should be enough.

Jesus is mine and all is well, but I want

And sway by the swaying wants of men.

Love is mine and truth is real, but I feel

Less comfortable than before.

Song and story are mine, but true glory

Is not weighty and I think the beauty is me.

Goodness is mine and my hands are full, but I

Grasp the wind and must still learn

That no one else will do.

Here, the heart knows unsettledness: Place evades my certainty

And friends marry friends while I still long for that.

Another tomorrow came, and I have been carried by

Another will, but it all seemed so statically silent

Instead of brilliant with the news of my dreams come true.

Grace, astonish again

When I lean again to feel that it is not


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