Given
my astonishing ignorance, being a commoner, mortal made of dust,
sometimes moist clay. Blown into cyclones, but mostly laying there,
plain as I am: dirt. If it can happen to me, it can happen in all
life; to know ourselves loved in ways uncommonly overwhelming.
Magnificent we are! As that, the who, which loves us.
It
seems now for a lifetime I have questioned: is my life a mistake?
Arrogate authority from parents to presidents, seem malevolent-seen
in retrospect. Actually savage aggression to define the ineffable.
Presuming power as demolished by the motto on our 'holy' dollar; our
religion is greed.
Being
human, no behavior astonishes me, for I too have been robbed and
raped and buried alive in the maelstrom of cupidity-explicit the
obscenity America has become world wide. To which, for myself, I
entertain thoughts of dismemberment knowing what goes around comes
around; an eye for an eye leads to communal blindness. Love,
preemptive, restrains while law, remedial, too late. Remaining venal
as anyone I would desecrate love's labor seems best to forgive but
never forget. Learning daily to live within the terror of a
government religion gone insane.
There
ain't nothing comely to see, nothing special in me, but that which I
experience is beyond description and yet I wonder what will become of
mankind?
Does
“God” really care? Weeping I ask, did Jesus die in vain? Or any
of the several other prophets I know of and many hinted by behavior?
The power I sense, experience, think and feel is benign, a servant to
life . . . I have no answers . . . but love the questions. And will
that, if nothing else, we accept responsibility and participate in
making life, liberty, love possible versus impossible.
Could
it be than I a merely a bait fish?
Gospels
mean little, other than idols, least you respond as where you are,
and will to become, a whole person . . . essentially being a
Christian is to be like Jesus. Wearing the cross is to be willing to
be crucified if need be. But then many have died for their faith,
experiential, by other names. Yet by any name love is universal and
unconditional service--the opposite of theft. Choose.
.
. . or love may become extinct
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©
2013 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved
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