Not Looking Elsewhere

Heavy rains give way to blue skies and the world is thus made safe for laundry. It was always so. One postulates a theory of Christ predicated on attention, on not looking elsewhere. On no longer insisting on the personal prerogative? Travel plans, writing projects - at last perceiving an end to favoritism. What is it about the sky that makes the wingless monotheistic? Snakes don't ever seem Godless or confused. Thérèse wrote that her only guide was self-abandonment, and quoted favorably Saint John of the Cross saying "I've finished all other work except that of love." What happens when you no longer insist on this or that medium? When you accept the utter absence of either merit or demotion? We who - having tasted the lovely division - push back from the table so that others might partake of our share. There is this tempest, there is this shore. There is this cloaked stranger huddled sleeping in the boat, whose rest matters more to me now than than any guidance or safety.