self-portrait photo, morphed into whirlwind
"Yet, love, as we wend the wind bloweth behind us
And beareth the last tale it telleth to-night,
How here in the spring-tide the message shall find us;
For the hope that none seeketh is coming to light.
Like the seed of midwinter, unheeded, unperished,
Like the autumn-sown wheat 'neath the snow lying green,
Like the love that o'ertook us, unawares and uncherished,
Like the babe 'neath thy girdle that groweth unseen,
So the hope of the people now buddeth and groweth -
Rest fadeth before it, and blindness and fear;
It biddeth us learn all the wisdom it knoweth;
It hath found us and held us, and biddeth us hear:
For it beareth the message: "Rise up on the morrow
And go on your ways toward the doubt and the strife;
Join hope to our hope and blend sorrow with sorrow,
And seek for men's love in the short days of life."--William Morris
Things sound troubled today, as they have been for so many people each day of my life and each life before mine. I want people to rise like the Sun for a beginning of joy, and an end to despair.
Even the words sound hollow and meaningless, until the darkness lifts a bit.
On this Valentine's Day, I pray for a time of swift peace and hope, and hope for a peace in swift time.