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An Imperfect Life poetry by Fr. Harold Macdonald |
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The mystery of God's word appears within rising from beneath the ken of knowing from behind the conscious mind it comes in a kind of lightness, a fragrance blowing. Pride, its perfume dispels, bouquet quells hate It enervates the hostile, floats through walls adorns all inward things both small and great; an inner Sun replacing inner squalls. Unaware we half await It's coming, in error, looking outward down the road; usual pious incantations humming reciting what we deem the secret code. Until we turn and feel the inkling of a shift; A Breeze the sail luffs, the sunken spirits lift.
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