Great Intimacy

It is like an exquisite spider web, this world, but I

don't get trapped.

I have ceased to tie the strings of one shoe to

another in the morning,

so now I don't trip over my wants. This leaves me

nimble. Any mountain I can scamper up.

A long rope shoved quickly into a sack can easily

get tangled and not be of proper use

when all of a sudden you need it. So I do everything,

everything with care.

It is like a miraculous weave of silk, the fabric of

this tender-looking sphere where we are camping,

but I don't get caught in any arms or lives, unless

they are loving, loving me.

Gazing at Her across a field some days, and desiring

great intimacy as we need, what can I do?

What can we do when God is acting coy, but to

be like a bird that sings to its mate?