looking at the world ass-backwards

looking, I was looking out

 into the ever-fresh fields of rude

 magnolias flipping in the breeze of 

the summer days shouting Yellow

 Yellow, as brilliantly as they can

 to distract the hedge-trimmers with

 scythes in hand and I knew as they

 knew that their days were trim, that

 they'd be trimmed by the noon of 

day so they'd laugh and laugh

 with the brilliance of the hurricane 

rains smacking their heads against

 the shorelines of the patient land

 where the grasses wept when the

thatchers hewed the flowers gone

 the grasses chewed but waited till

 these immigrants would again depart

before coming forth again to pester

them in nature's ever-rule of land

and always win yes always win

 yes win their effort to control the mass

*It is the cross and only the cross that provides a constant point of reference in the chaos of our world, because there is all poverty and helplessness and pain, in our yearning and all our mutual injustice, taken up into the stillness of God's everlasting love and made into the instrument and revelation of God's unchanging will.  So in all of it, beatitude is formed in the depth of our individual and churchly lives, giving us at least a courage to persevere until all joy is revealed.  And so our hope comes to be focused on God's rule rather than on our own, and it comes also to expand, reaching far beyond the widest dreams of earthly planners, because it homes in on the fullness of blessing which God has in store for those who love God, which 'eye has not seen and ear has not heard and it has not entered the heart of humankind to conceive, (1Cor.2:9). 

*Simon Tugwell