I can not carry the tribulations,
\nthe birth and dying of one street.
\nHow could I therefore
\nlisten to the burdens of a village,
\na town,
\nthe murmuring of confessions,
\nthe confinement of a jailer,
\nthe brittle laughter of saloons,
\nadministering medicine to the ill?
\nShare the hope and helplessness
\nof the teacher.<\/p>\n
Yet we presume
\nGod has time for each
\nand every one of us.
\nDoesn\u2019t tire.
\nDoesn\u2019t weep.
\nMust weigh in the balance
\nevery moment of our lives,
\nand hold in the heart
\nhow much light is left
\nafter the darkness.<\/p>\n
And I have come
\nto the entrance of an answer.
\nThe arch of a truth.
\nHow the world was made
\nto allow the work of the Creator.
\nThe substance that is always
\nthe something it possesses,
\ngiving back in equal proportion
\nto what is taken.
\nRestores what has fallen,
\nand redeems every tear
\nwith the addition of joy
\nfor good measure.<\/p>\n
God said, I am nothing but this,
\nI will be nothing but this,
\nand everything I\u2019ve created
\nwill be made, shaped, polished
\nand rounded by this.
\nThe language of everything
\ntaken together.
\nIn the beginning and forever,
\nwas the word,
\nI am the word,
\nand the word is love!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I can not carry the tribulations, the birth and dying of one street. How could I therefore listen to the burdens of a village, a…<\/p>\n