The World Too Beautiful

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O world, I cannot hold thee close enough!
Thy winds, thy wide grey skies!
Thy mists, that roll and rise!
Thy woods, this autumn day, that ache and sag
And all but cry with color! That gaunt crag
To crush! To lift the lean of that black bluff!
World, World, I cannot get thee close enough!

Long have I known a glory in it all,
But never knew I this;
Here such a passion is
As stretcheth me apart,– Lord, I do fear
Thou’st made the world too beautiful this year;
My soul is all but out of me,– let fall
No burning leaf; prithee, let no bird call.
~Edna St. Vincent Millay “God’s World”

 

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Oh, earth, you’re too wonderful for anybody to realize you. 
Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it? – every, every minute? 
I’m ready to go back. I should have listened to you. That’s all human beings are!
Just blind people.
~Thornton Wilder, from Emily’s monologue in Our Town

 

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Let me not wear blinders through my days.
Let me see and hear and feel it all even when it seems too much to bear.

Lord,  prepare me to be so whelmed at your world, that
Heaven itself will be familiar, and not that far,
Just round the corner.

 

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The Alleviation of Dawn

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For what human ill does not dawn seem to be an alleviation?
~Thornton Wilder

 

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Early fall mornings often begin obscured – the low fog clings to the moist ground,  creating a muted reality of muffled sound and distorted distance.

My head feels just like this when I first wake.  I struggle to shake loose of cloudiness and clear my vision so I can take on the day.

Clarity doesn’t come from within.

The dawn burns off the fog, renders and refines landscape colors, separates light from shadow.  I too must become part of the solution instead of clouded with precipitate.

 

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Broken on the Wheels of Living

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Without your wound where would your power be?
It is your very remorse that makes your low voice tremble into the hearts of men.
The very angels themselves cannot persuade the wretched and blundering children on earth
as can one human being broken on the wheels of living.

In love’s service, only the wounded soldiers can serve.
~Thornton Wilder from “The Angel That Troubled the Waters

 

We wound and are wounded in ways seen and unseen,
not always regretful at the hurts we cause,
ever sorrowful for the hurts we bear,
living broken, churning through our days.

The wheel keeps turning, stirring up troubled waters.
Evening to morning, morning to darkness,
a healing angel
extends a hand
and invites us to get our feet wet.

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The Unseen Seen

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It is in the early morning hour that the unseen is seen,
and that the far-off beauty and glory,
vanquishing all their vagueness,
move down upon us till they stand
clear as crystal close over against the soul.

~Sarah Smiley

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Slow buds the pink dawn like a rose
From out night’s gray and cloudy sheath;
Softly and still it grows and grows,
Petal by petal, leaf by leaf.
~Susan Coolidge

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For what human ill does not dawn seem to be an alleviation?
~Thornton Wilder

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