Release into the acceptance
Of what you are so far,
For who knows what is good, but God.
And who knows how many revolutions must come
Before we are perfected.
Like clay upon the wheel, we turn
Round and round.
And he loves us where we are.
He loves the bright and burning
Coals within the flame.
And he loves the cold, the lost,
The hungry traveler
Far from home.
We are the same to him: beloved, cherished,
In the bosom of his deepest
And most holy intent.
For when it comes to the things of the Spirit,
Not all that glitters is gold.
Sometimes, the pearl of great price
Is found in the deepest, darkest,
Hours of our wayward, fearful, flights
Into the thing that we despise.
One thing for sure:
We will never find our way back home
By turning away in shame.
And so, let go...
Let God decide what is good.