The weather has been remarkably clement. It is a wonderful time of year. One of my correspondents seemingly mocks me with the title of my blog....the world is passing me by...but it has been a season of fruitfulness as alluded to in previous blogs. Tomatoes slowly ripen. Would that weather were warmer and that they would come on more quickly.Meantimes my cynical critic suggests my life is passing by without meaning.I have anointed one who has died, and another who is on the brink.
Most people don't enter into this...it is the priest's lot...
With cynicism most think the world is in our grasp. It is not.
All flesh is grass
The cold on your throat is my hand
Lurking in the dark, lurking in the light
I'm here to haunt you I am your fright
The marks on your skin are marks of my seed
And the pain you feel is forever breeding
And all your flesh is grass in my hands
And all the skin rots as autumn grass
The dark you see is the dark I am
I rip your heart out, I am your sandman
And all your flesh is grass in my hands
And all the skin rots as autumn grass
I wouldn't be quite so fierce as these word are...but death is rough for all of us
The Lord gives and the Lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.
I don't mean to be morbid.
But so many are cocky, thinking the world is their oyster...but it is fleeting
and as fragile as anything
2 comments:
I think Jesus said something like "Let the dead bury the dead". I imagine that he was alluding to priorities; but then I know that I don't perform well in that department. Nevertheless, I do try to think about priorities.
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