The Darkling Psalter
The wicked man’s mind runs glad With evil thoughts and he can’t sleep. His heart tramps from wrong to wrong In a dim parade, full of all the wrong fears. He wonders why he would let this glamour go Once he got it started. He spins traps And hangs them in corners. Words tumble Out of his mouth like black spiders. He tells himself he’ll stand Infinity on edge and flick it so it spins. But there is another wisdom and no one Has found the end of it. God’s love. You can’t shake it. It is as solid As a mountain and doesn’t rattle. The clouds are not higher Than the measure of God's love, Nor the stars, nor the farthest Flung distant folly of hope. We can hide in it, feast on it, Drink it in, dare gale darlings Fledged under bright wings. It is free for the taking every morning As much as hand can hold or heart gather. It is a light strung between stars in long lines, Wide and white against the blank dark. God, keep me in the slow lathe of your love. Make my soul’s bones hone and spin. Lift me up but lay low And unlace every evil plan. See omnystudio.com/listener [https://omnystudio.com/listener] for privacy information.
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