Its not necessarily a good idea to read certain poems at times, but how much more fully I can feel them every day that passes.
This is from "A Shropshire Lad",by A.E. Houseman from a lovely anthology Pen gave me: Poem for the Day, One, forward by Wendy Cope.
"From far, from eve and morning
And yon twelve-winded sky,
The stuff of life to knit me
Blew hither: here am I.
Now - for a breath I tarry
Nor yet disperse apart -
Take my hand quick and tell me
What have you in your heart.
Speak now, and I will answer;
How shall I help you, say:
Ere to the wind's twelve quarters
I take my endless way.
The poet has returned to "the ground of dust" - is now blowing about in the wind's twelve quarters. Will he be called from the sleep of death when the time comes? I do hope so. And how long before we too... aargghh... This was never meant to happen to us. We are made to live forever - and hopefully we will. But only through the ransom sacrifice of Jesus Christ, as his death paid back to Jehovah the perfect human life that Adam so wilfully threw away in Eden. That is why he is called "a corresponding ransom". He perfectly corresponded to Adam, who was perfect until he chose to fatally damage himself.
Which is why the Memorial on the night of the 14th is so important.
It seems to me that I achieved nothing yesterday, beyond some study - we are in Exodus again now - some witnessing by internet - and making a pan of veggie stew with the leftover vegs. It was a grey and rainy day which kind of matched my mood. Its sunny today but not warm. The Captain's sandwiches were made - Polish sausage from Lidl's today - and he has spent the day at the ducklingface, it being too cold for butterflies.