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subscribeOn The Edge of a Curved Surface
Wednesday, August 8
The sky is green and when we collaborate it turns blue or red (indeed, yes, it does). Still, no matter what my day brings the moon continues to move the oceans around with it's steady, steamy, undeniable pull.
How can I regret the lash of the whip or the burdens of the endless reflections of time when birds surround me and dive deep, cocking their head to the side and watching as college students rush or able by...
We share one mind, one heart, one vision. We are loved despite great faults even as tensions build despite great opportunities for justice and change. We must adapt and, still, we must fail. For in the end, the only quality of virtue we must cultivate is to open ourselves to the awkward uncontrollable roughness from our past. To open every door, to let the holy spirit in, is all we can do.
Whether to war, or to peace, we will spin and shake every step of the way. It is undeniable. It is true. At this moment in time, who do you belong to? Who touches your heart? You were made of magic before your mother's first smile and you were made of love before your first kiss. Come down from heaven for us, you are more than merely the perfection of movement. Come home. Come back to what you know.
How can I regret the lash of the whip or the burdens of the endless reflections of time when birds surround me and dive deep, cocking their head to the side and watching as college students rush or able by...
We share one mind, one heart, one vision. We are loved despite great faults even as tensions build despite great opportunities for justice and change. We must adapt and, still, we must fail. For in the end, the only quality of virtue we must cultivate is to open ourselves to the awkward uncontrollable roughness from our past. To open every door, to let the holy spirit in, is all we can do.
Whether to war, or to peace, we will spin and shake every step of the way. It is undeniable. It is true. At this moment in time, who do you belong to? Who touches your heart? You were made of magic before your mother's first smile and you were made of love before your first kiss. Come down from heaven for us, you are more than merely the perfection of movement. Come home. Come back to what you know.
