blurry mornings weary bones days warm m inds slow sitting waiting longing heart needing warming despite the weather that day which dawns everything still comes too quick it's surprise leaving me breathless solitary as if there is just the child and I as if we two can make the world whole through our shared gaze i have no gift to bring but this torn tired soul bent out of shape a year of encounters leaving their mark the child has no wealth nothing but love
in are hope coffee at dawn soft breezes to wake you children's books long afternoons which of course i was made for bills paid meditation mediation medication co operation all sorts of ations except for alienation which is out i mean' who wants aliens anyway! soft beds are a must cups of tea at 3 on line poetic thoughts and music of all persuasion out are most things i hate which is fine 'cos this is my blog anyway stress is out big time so are bombastic rockers strung out on their own importance hate of all descriptions designs dimensions and detail in fact most details are out too the unnecessary is out as are the unscrupulous and unsavoury but the unusual unusable or undone can stay the other is just there so listen
O Key of David Come Mystery beyond my control Come Who cannot be boxed Come Who seeks my all, and nothing less Come who comes on the late afternoon breeze in the quickening pace of last minute shopping in excited squeals and overwhelmed tears Who comes in the midnight silence of those Keeping vigil the cloistered ones the mothers the ill in ancient words of emmanuel come.
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