Sunday, May 17, 2015

from morning pages

Propulsion

I am a baseball, about to be hit.
Will I go into the first baseman’s glove,
bounce about freely in the field,
or over the fence out of the park?
Let the whack that hurls me be gentle
and may I be that home-run ball
that glorifies Your name.
Or rather, may I be a rocket;
but there still would be a fire at my tail.
I guess if one goes far
one has to go through some suffering. 

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