Operatic Ape

i cannot run from you Lord as much as, a grasshopper can swim the rapid, or a newt can withstand the sun. i have closed my eyes, and dreamt of sleep, but you are a terrifying beam of light a horrendously gentle stream, a cavernous embrace, a churning abyss, a warm fathom, the deep night, and i do not want to leave. were i any different were i any different i would not be i, and what a tragedy.

Lord when i ask, i know no one can tell. your aspect is close but undefined. a reflection in a puddle of mud. how much? how much? you said, when we return we will not be given in marriage, so you have come to train our hearts; to be angels, you drop the bumpers and lead us from the bowl-o-drome. still i am a question. how much? how much? and when to listen? pinning for an answer, we are attachments to the pin, not Lord of the dead, drop the bowling ball and walk away. pinning for an answer, we are attachments to the pin, Lord, like angels, help us drop the ball and walk away. still i am a question. how much? how much? and when to listen?

what is left to do when an apology will wound? what is left to do, when you brandish an apology as an axe, let go of rotting flowers, send them down stream, make use of a free hand and put it to better use. ascension, realize 'i am only drowning, because i am clutching a stone"

washed up, my skin is the bristling foam and bright sand of the beach; a prolonged contact with the Holy lapping, lapping, lapping. washed up from tumult, the inner sea; the fight to keep it down, unsuccessful for too long i am ready to rise; to walk with my measly legs, i get up to turn around, and face the flooding surge of the storm with what balance and grace God gives. we will see what follows after, a baptism and a drowning.