This Little Thing Was Broken

This little thing was blown
against the wind,
its petals gone,
is now a stem of someone's thought.

This little book,
its pages fluttering,
stands in the rain.
It is now a spirit, recaptured in someone's mind.

This season of spring
stands bewildered in the moment of going.
It is a draft of wind,
breaking in sharp through the crack in the wall.

This spirit once lay scattered on the sea.
Someone came and gathered in his arms
the petals, the pages, the wind and the rain that tossed it so.
The spirit awakened, in God's embrace, saw the rationale.
The scattered spirit is whole again




























This little thing was blown
against the wind,
its petals gone,
is now a stem of someone's thought.

This little book,
its pages fluttering,
stands in the rain.
It is now a spirit, recaptured in someone's mind.

This season of spring
stands bewildered in the moment of going.
It is a draft of wind,
breaking in sharp through the crack in the wall.

This spirit once lay scattered on the sea.
Someone came and gathered in his arms
the petals, the pages, the wind and the rain that tossed it so.
The spirit awakened,
and in God's embrace, saw the rationale.
The scattered spirit is whole again