It Is Only When You Are Pursued

Our Anxiety Does Not Come From Thinking About The Future, But From Wanting To Control It.

Thus With My Lips Have I Denounced You, While My Heart, Bleeding Within Me, Called You Tender Names. It Was Love Lashed By Its Own Self That Spoke. It Was Pride Half Slain That Fluttered In The Dust. It Was My Hunger For Your Love That Raged From The Housetop, While My Own Love, Kneeling In Silence, Prayed Your Forgiveness.

Am I A Harp That The Hand Of The Mighty May Touch Me, Or A Flute That His Breath May Pass Through Me? A Seeker Of Silences Am I, And What Treasure Have I Found In Silences That I May Dispense With Confidence?

The Thirst Of Soul Is Sweeter Than The Wine Of Material Things, And The Fear Of Spirit Is Dearer Than The Security Of The Body.

But If You Love And Must Needs Have Desires, Let These Be Your Desires: To Melt And Be Like A Running Brook That Sings Its Melody To The Night. To Know The Pain Of Too Much Tenderness. To Be Wounded By Your Own Understanding Of Love; And To Bleed Willingly And Joyfully. To Wake At Dawn With A Winged Heart And Give Thanks For Another Day Of Loving; To Rest At Noon Hour And Meditate Love's Ecstasy; To Return Home At Eventide With Gratitude; And Then To Sleep With A Prayer For The Beloved In Your Heart And A Song Of Praise On Your Lips.