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A holy hymn of love rises within us,
and the colors rise, and come to guild the sky
which is our heart;
and we rejoice again at the miracle
of being alive,
and come to greet the other flowers with whom
we share this blessed road.
All this hope and love is deep within us,
when we rise as children to greet the day
no longer clinging
to the hours within us already dead and gone;
no longer worshipping ghosts, phantoms
of an age already dead and gone;
all this is within us, and so much more
when we share in imagination’s bounty,
and greet the future unafraid.
Then, the hours explode into holy moments,
score upon score of them, all unbidden
in their glory and delight;
each one a miracle, each one sacred;
each more full of the energy of life
than these little minds of ours could ever apprehend.
When that fire of hope burns within us,
and blazes through these eyes of ours
then this old world is made new once again
and we along with it;
and our ears catch the tune,
in just a hint of its glory,
till we sing, too, as one,
this resounding song of Life.
jbs
6/17/03 - 6/18/03 - 5/1/05
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