Let go the handle,
And then let go.
Put out the candle;
It’s burning low.

The more you struggle
To hold on tight,
The more you juggle
With dark and light.

Without surrender
To Eden’s Fall,
There’s no great splendour;
There’s none at all.

So mind the sparrow
And sing your song.
You’re blood and marrow,
But not for long.

And, when they’re over
And wrapped in Grace,
Sweet days of clover
Shall take their place.

Photo by Bernard Hermant on Unsplash

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