Monday, May 09, 2011

Castle and Kingdom

I am dust,
Dignified by divine fashioning,
And yet, a shifting soul of the finest sand.  I am
Contingent and
Derivative, or
I am nothing at all.

What shape will I be
today, my God?
Any breeze may make me
a castle or a whirlwind.

Scoop me all in your hands
And cover me.
Let your breath permeate my grains
And lift them into order.
Let them take no form,
But what, from your mouth,
The Spirit wills.


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