The Open Shore

To bless, He waits, expectant, from His throne while down below the toilsome ant-roads long lead peopled millions to their bleak alone, and darkened nights withhold the joyful song. He reaches out, His very self to give while creatures grub for grabbing in their need and use the crumpled husks of life they live like […]

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Song of the Bereaved

The night is done— Our time When the sun rises on the sea And the smell of brine Draws you and me Out on the sand to run.   Today we cannot run— Your night is done, And it is only me Here in our time, Watching the foaming brine As the sun rises on […]

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