works of words

 

 

After the rains, between the storms, nearing the seasons end,

The river swells rushing toward the sea; rising up the banks, beyond the summer channel.

 

Like my heart.

 

I’m yet full of muck, mud and the debris from the storms that have passed through,

Yet as it flows comes also cleansing, a purging.

The storms come and go, churning, releasing, drawing out the debris.

The river ever roiling, higher, lower, ebbing, flowing, living moving on.

 

The river lives in response to the storms, the seasons, the rains of life, like my heart.

The river ever rushing, flows constantly toward the sea,

It flows to the sea of the forgetfulness that is a loving God.

 

A loving God fashions the seasons, knows the turbulence and troubles, after the storms of life.

A loving God knows my heart, the seasons, and the depths of the sea beyond.

The great sea beyond the shore where the river meets it.  The river absorbed into the vastness.  In its turn even the rain is formed of that sea, such a mystery.

A loving God knows; knows my faith; I’m able to hold only a teacup full of the depths of that great ocean,

The Ocean that is the love of God and his gracious forgetfulness of the mud and muck,

The muck that flows through my heart after the storms of life,

 

It is enough for me.

 

It is more than enough,

For I am known and understood,

I am understood in the merciful forgetfulness that is the love of God.