My soul clings to you,Your right hand upholds me.
Our appetites cannot contain beauty. Our appetites are fickle things that sway with the prevailing wave, never satisfied and as gaunt as the grave. They harbor selfishness and petty squabbling. They incite us to hate. In our pursuit of our loves, we become the very things we hate, and our left to languish in our fate. When we are the rulers of our world, we are lost, though we are certain of our cause. Pride cannot contain beauty, for the mind is closed and eye refuses light. We build our own worlds, elaborate schemes and arguments to protect us, keeping others’ ideas out, and hating truth, we become def. We are safe, though. Why hear words that shatter who you are? Why be destroyed by love? Yet beauty is not safe. Love is not safe. Not to a world of our own making. We have abandoned the true and beautiful world, to hold on to deciding for ourselves what is beautiful Desiring our autonomy, we frantically fight and scramble for mud pies, being enslaved by our passions, when a banquet is set before us, if only we would only look up from our mire. We our consumed by our appetites and cannot look up to see the hand reaching out to us to help us out of our darkness. We cannot hear the voice, the word that speaks gently and offers us life. It is only in a world that is holy other that we find beauty. Beauty is beheld by the broken who are crushed by truth and smell the foul stench of their own desires. They lift up their heads to the one who is ready to lift them out. They look into his eyes of love and call on his name. And they, though still smelly and dirty, are held in his embrace. Life has only now begun. And in their journey to love, as they dance to the music, and are satisfied by the banquet, their mud begins to fall away . . .
