Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Burnt Offerings

How long have I argued 'gainst the slightest disturbance
'Twas unjust
To a man so honest and upstanding
Thy goodness, sure, could ne'er uphold
These wrongs I was beholding
With the smallest quiver
A thousand whys
Offended by Thy workings
Yet the filthy rug is beaten
The stain needs scrubbing
Great winds disperse the seed
And fire brings life anew
So then
Beaten, scrubbed and dispersed I'll be
As necessity would fashion
With light come burn the rest of me
That I may learn Love's passion

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