Jack Spratt

120726 02:21 runes of grief

"Whether they give or refuse, women are glad to have been asked." --Ovid

Seasons come & go stitching night with short then quarters and half's the longest stitch:

Death

Yet death has no dominion never lost our memories left behind we beloved grieving our Beloved's departure a vision of immortality in real time measured

Rejoiced

With time our grief becomes reconciled life’s true grit to live another day then the next wounded suffering not . . . by our grief are we redeemed

Many my deaths all consoled by a friend who answers queries with whispers in death’s sleep

Short 

Each rest soon arisen like a child Angelic saved by He who in flesh walked whole/holy a man crucified never left Still walking talking weeping and joking ever blessing He is kind the servant King who may judge us as fools or wise what we give/gave to the least amongst us the meek

Inherit 

That He should bother with or be Brother to me is astonishing beyond definitions applied by others who would capture Him to define exclusively the Who He Is since he can be she or nothing at all for his friends & children dying again

Arising

A new born sun all the days of our lives Glorious & for him I’d Thankfully be anything anonymous an apple a snake a tree Never a ruler of men taking free will & choice away from we the children of God entombed in wombs of stone the laws of men merely make more criminals by blaspheme their greedy childish ways mockery of providence

“Neither can the wave that has passed by be recalled, nor the hour which has passed return again.” --Ovid

© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved