Cover us, Love: clothe us in your
compassion; keep us kind like you.
Be our compass and charisma,
courageous covenant maker.
Creator, we crave your cleansing;
carry her cares, loving captain;
cure his cancerous discontent.
We’re curious: can we come closer?
Your colorful choir calls us
from cries about crime to candid
communication at crossroads.
Christen, counsel, complete us, Love.
Breath of Love, you buoy our bodies,
blessing brains and bones with balance;
you bend beneath us, bear us up.
Blood-bound, we belong to you, Love.
Brother-in-Love, you embolden us,
break down barriers, build up bridges.
Bringing boons beyond our blunders,
you embrace us; we bank on you.
Brilliant One, your breeze-borne Love beams,
birthing, budding, blooming, branching.
Above, below, your Love billows;
behind, before, boundless beacon.
Awesome Love, we acclaim you
most creative artist,
most auspicious author.
Anchor, Advocate, Arbiter,
you align us with angels;
your love is astronomical.
You awaken, absolve, affirm;
you abolish artifice.
Love, be our administrator;
arm us for amnesty
as your associates,
Absolute Love, we adore You.
There are always worthwhile actions
that fill without killing a day’s time:
the garden beckons with beans to pick
and weeds to pull; sunlit clotheslines
anticipate breeze-dried sheets and towels.
There are always plans, choices and
meals to be made, hopefully with Love.
Oh how subtly summer endeavors
devolve from delight to drudgery
when we ignore You, Master Dancer!
Yet Your Love conducts each child heart
from rapport to rapt I-contact.
Immune from toxic word volleys
our movements create poems and peace
beyond filling to fulfilling.
Here’s how I picture my spirit after four wondrous hours at Dayspring with Cheryl and other faithful earth-tenders: carefree, surging with hope, invigorated, rejuvenated. It’s always that way after a Respring Daytreat, actually after any relent sightreat.
PS – This syllable switch wordplay is fun!
Long time ago I did a series of these psycho face drawings over watercolor. Now a wordplay excursion leads me back to this one. It’s that swamped or sopped feeling of being whelmeroved.
Why do cities, even including Greenbelt; why does the US government burn up countless $$$$$$$$$$$$ each year in fireworks? Isn’t it common sense not to waste money anytime and especially when the national debt is so high and cities struggle to provide services and pay staff without raising taxes?
Why don’t people admit that fireworks are idolatrous? They foster ecstatic worship of some nebulous concept of freedom or national identity. Like the national anthem’s “bombs bursting in air,” fireworks celebrate violence and noise. They also glorify the spiraling decadence and pollution of fossil fuel extravagance.
Our Creator sends awesome thunderstorms with wind and rain that cool our air. Rainbow, dawn, and sunset colors burgeon spectacularly all around our planet. When will we stop trying to improve on divine light shows?