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God's Love

Where it reaches me here
Amongst the foliage,
Head turns,
Breath,
Awakens.

I admire,
What I can become
Out of my lowly state
I find a pitied breaking
Compassion,
An identity within the inmost parts.

Can it be or can't it be?
Let it be or let it not?

Without wrinkle, blemish
or spot.

Love, always love.

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Comments


  • Mary O gold member
    November 2, 2008
    Edit | Reply

    Nice thoughts

    "Where it reaches me here
    Amongst the foliage,

    I admire,
    What I can become
    Out of my lowly state


    Can it be . . .?


    Without wrinkle

    Love"

    Love these words of expression best.