Tuesday in Holy Week
The Lord knows our human thoughts;
how like a puff of wind they are.
I press the delete key again and watch the letters disappear from my screen, one by one, in the reverse order from which they appeared. How easily these words deconstruct.
The Word itself will soon unravel, be poured out, and spent. And for a moment or a time, we will be in that emptiness. That no space. The speechless sea.
Even now, in preparation, I fling out my arms and cling to the echo of Love.