Cymen's Conversion

Clodesuida, a peaceful heart to you now.

I am well; I have seen our terrible gods come down

To beg the crumbs which fall from our sins, their only

Means of life. This evening you and I

Can walk under the trees and be ourselves

Together, knowing that this wild day has gone

For good. Where is the Briton? You still think

You must be afraid and see in him

The seed of a storm. But I have heard

Word of his God, and felt our lonely flesh

Welcome to creation. The fearful silence

Became the silence of great sympathy,

The quiet of God and man in the mutual word.

And never again need we sacrifice, on and on

And on, greedy of gods' goodwill

But always uncertain; for sacrifice

Can only perfectly be made by God

And sacrifice has so been made, by God

To God in the body of God with man,

On a tree set up at the four crossing roads

On earth, heaven, time, and eternity

Which meet upon that cross. I have heard this;

And while we listened, with our eyes half-shut

Facing the late sun, above the shoulder

Of the speaking man I saw the cross-road tree,

The love of God hung on the motes and beams

Of light. . . .

(From "Thor, With Angels," a play by Christopher Fry)

Comments

[Kelly]

Sorry, this is completely off topic -- just hoping y'all are safe.

[The Embryo Parson]

Thanks, Kelly. Yes, for now we aren't threatened by wildfires, but we are on pins and needles up here, praying for protection. And rain.