Thursday, September 24, 2009


There is only Love.
This I know.
And yet the
thousand and one
things shiny or bright
can still
cast their glamour,
steal drops of attention
until I return.

And returning is a
precarious teeter-totter
of a walk
at times,
coyotes chasing rabbits
across the sandy desert road
winding through Joshua Trees
and chapparal,
captivated by my senses
until a large rock
knocks against the steely wheels of my mind.

Infinite Grace
always extending
not one hand
but two,
nothing held back,
for Grace doesn't wait for
guaranteed returns before
opening the coffers wide.
So why should I?

Scott Patrick Schwenk 9/24/09

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