Grace and Peace to you.
What do you cling to when the waves roll over
your little boat of life?
When the sound drains out of your days,
what still echoes long into the night?
When you cross over the river
what do you still have in your pockets—
a key to something broken, foreign coins,
a medal on a ribbon, inscribed with silence?
What does it profit you— this world,
its flash and sparkle, to weigh yourself
with its precious coals,
and lose the light you are?
If you are God’s love song,
what is there to your life but singing?
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