In Love With The Lord

A Prayer for the Mist of Recognition

A lily grows in darkness, nurtured by the mist of recognition. To the last point of vision, and beyond. That lore prompted strain, twixt thee and things a never failing bond… so constant with thy downward eye of love, faithful though swift as lightning, thou meek dove; yet more hath native reconciled in thee, in aerial singleness, so true, so humble, ready to rejoice in power of wing and never wearied voice, the soul to love the more. What was boldly promised truly shall be done. My love grows in the green grass, basking in the sunshine from your heart.