To err on the side of love is to be acquainted with pain;
It is akin to the fate of the moth – enthralled by flames
Of compassion, empathy, kindness, patience, humility.
To err on the side of love is to realize
That you do your fair share of dishing out hurt,
Angst, apathy, ire, discord, heart-break, doubt;-
Usually inadvertently, but harmful nonetheless.
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Some say words are cheap; I disagree in part;
For my words are heavy and expensive,
Because they are not entirely mine.
I’m learning to let mine simmer
In the broth of truth over the fires of faith.
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Hither and tither I go;
I search for a spot to restock.
I’ve run out of my signature commodity;
My warehouses are full of things in demand,
But absolutely devoid of anything of true worth.
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One foot in front of the other;
On a diet of milk and honey,
Easy does it, they say,
That’s how to walk.
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Many hearts and minds, with hands and lips,
Everything that has not breath, and some that do,
Rejoice at the Gift from above, come to
Reclaim all of creation – salvage via salvation;
Yea, herein lies the mystery of the gift of grace.
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“Rejection does not mean you are not good enough! Who is better, more perfect, more loving than God? Yet more men have spurned Him than have accepted Him; His own creatures nonetheless. There’s nothing nice or comforting about being rejected, but rest assured, you’re in good company. Please, your worth is not a function of ‘acceptance’ or ‘rejection’!” – Makafui.
Now here is the story told of a man, who rose up and said: “Hear hear, as I speak mysteries without interpretation. Listen well, for my words do not mean what they should, but they reveal my deepest thoughts. I hold concealed in one hand keys to the past, and in my bosom is hidden the door to the future. Now hear my dilemma and give me counsel. What do I say to console myself, having lost my other arm in a bid to rob from it’s owner the keys to the future? For my enemy holds with both fists the keys to the future, and hides behind the door to the past.”
There is silence till a child responds: “Sire, thou hast no hands.” To which an old man adds: “The doors to the future have no locks, one just needs to push through.”
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