Two Sources Of Life
The time we measure and the time we know
Move in the branches drinking life, the giver.
Being young, we bathed here, and shook off the river,
Then stood above the stream and watched it flow.
An image in the water shone below,
Armed with a secret we could not deliver.
Those beams were like the arrows in a quiver
For which our expectation was the bow.
But ask: when was it that the current took us
So deeply into life that time forsook us,
Leaving us nothing but the need to give?
We were transfigured by the deaths of others.
That was the spring, when first we knew our brothers
And died into the truth which made us live.
Page(s) 22-23
magazine list
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