There was a time of playing in the cold; running, laughing, jumping; being.
There is a time of walking slowly in the wind; holding and being held
Being held and holding; the Beloved.
And all the time, the time is now.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
I love this poem. It is most definitely a poem, and a very beautiful prayer too.
ReplyDelete