photo by AshveenpWhat could I give unto this morning
that is not false, or forced, or frayed?
How could we push with painted hearts of feeling,
our coloured hopes to damaged Deeps?
Why do I strive and in kneed I buckle
to throw in haste with pride my aid,
or should we silent, bent and able
admit that what we need be is sheer;
clear to You, vases, vessels here.
AEM April 2011
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