that was what my literature professor always said anyways and look at me now! Writing about love
....
Of all things,
greatest of these is love.
I have seen the extend of the world, the place where mans glory
is consumed in open flames,
and the emancipated rays bend onward through eternity.
For it was Him who first loved us.
Love it was, like the double
edged sword penetrating the heart to
the division of joy through sorrow.
Upon a single strand of hair stretching the breadth
of the deep canyon she walks.
Her balance at the mercy of rustling
wind, yet there is hope.
In hope lies life, and in life therein everlasting life
a gift of pearls cast before swine
I know of a place hidden from foolishness,
a place where dead speak to living
a place where the living speak truth upon the dead
death -- the absence of love in all these things.
Righteous possessions that become whitewashed tombs sacred
to our children
Love is His palette
From where The Artist dips the brush tip
in the dark faceless waters
paints two lives,
and then strokes them into one.
Of all things,
greatest of these is love.
I have seen the extend of the world, the place where mans glory
is consumed in open flames,
and the emancipated rays bend onward through eternity.
For it was Him who first loved us.
Love it was, like the double
edged sword penetrating the heart to
the division of joy through sorrow.
Upon a single strand of hair stretching the breadth
of the deep canyon she walks.
Her balance at the mercy of rustling
wind, yet there is hope.
In hope lies life, and in life therein everlasting life
a gift of pearls cast before swine
I know of a place hidden from foolishness,
a place where dead speak to living
a place where the living speak truth upon the dead
death -- the absence of love in all these things.
Righteous possessions that become whitewashed tombs sacred
to our children
Love is His palette
From where The Artist dips the brush tip
in the dark faceless waters
paints two lives,
and then strokes them into one.