Love


How strange that love is not enough.

HOPE

Most often, love does not permeate the preoccupied mind of Men, the Woman’s busy heart. Martha and Mary are now alike, no saviour’s feet at which to kneel.

No water into wine to turn. He loved us first and died to prove it. We drank his wine, and drink him still. But.

Love asks nothing in return.

We take yet do not give.

Until we break.

Men’s minds plead for Love,for rescue,Women’s hearts ,still themselves,Race Memory glimpses nail torn feet, the Better Part.

What is this thing called LOVE?

That it did give its breath for me. Long memory members me and I remember disbelieving, that my proud soul needed not a lifeline of untold love to redeem my debts from Satanic hoarding. I am responsible, I owe no thing to no body.

Yet a dim memory members me and God said I am valuable, of all His Creatures He loved us best.

What is this thing called LOVE that might surround and nurture me?

We remember “Come unto me you who are heavy laden….I will give you rest. And He and we yoked as one. Is love rememborized.

This thing called LOVE is a man like us and we must become a God like Him.

That is this thing called LOVE which must bind the World of Wo Men with threads like web of the Universal Spider. Of God in all hearts and minds….

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