There
is everywhere so much love
But
there are places where
It
is despised ---
Love
fills all the holes in me
And
again and again ---
Runs
ahead of me, even waiting
To
pour in its oil ---
Love
washes away the mud
The
deluding flood leaves ---
Takes
me with it wherever it will
We
have strange ways of seeing
Not
by chance are we put in its path
In
loving alone the flood passed us by
If
we only knew --- then we could tell
If
we knew what we saw --- we could
Go
inside it --- we would be --- there
We
would paint it ---
And
there are more ways of painting
Than
one --- and more ways of loving
Than
has ever been heard of . . .
*
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