With the Lilies and Sparrows
If Love were caused to be a form of life,
an entity that walked upon the earth–
my mind envisions wings of ebony,
with plumage blue as sky and sea and soul;
with eyes that challenge stars to burn as bright
in midst of day; with voice that roars like winds
and murmurs like the breeze; with talons sharp
as sabers; light of foot and soft as mist
in lighting on the nest inside the heart.
What wonder, then, that Love would choose to come
as one like me, would choose to don this flesh
and walk this painful road to Paradise
that I might join Him there eternally.
My soul cries out for joy; words fail me.