Читать книгу Psalms of Gratitude and Prayer - John J. Brugaletta - Страница 12

Now comes my pain that sweeps away the world.

The cluttered workday, all the social weights,

the habit that compels on mindless day—

all gone, or hid, like minor creatures when

a monarch makes approach. The pinpoint distant

star, confronted so immense, becomes the sun,

and I am intimate with You, and dead,

for no one lives this close to all that is.

My gratitude to You who send such pain,

who melt our eyes to let us see the real,

who break our legs so we will sit and think,

who scorch our tongues so we may speak alone

of You, think none but You, see who we are

by seeing we are not the God of all.