Unless a grain of wheat
falls into the earth and dies,
it remains just a single grain;
but if it dies, it bears much fruit.
This is faith in resurrection,
not some speculation on the future,
but the trust to die in love.
Why be afraid to give myself away
when You have come
and died in my arms
and now live more vividly
You have poured out yourself like drink
and only afterwards
did I realize how I was feasting.
Why be afraid to disappear
Why not be nothing but love,
and so only life?
To get over my self-clinging
and become a seed in the hand of God,
be flung, be burst, become the opened grave
from whom the tender stalk of Christ
emerges and grows and becomes me, new.
To be a gift that is not returned,
light that sinks into a stone heart,
a luscious taste on the tongue of the world.
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