never faltered in her step & we never got up without a cup
of tea in bed - today it’s tea only - reading favourite hymns
for energy; Ps 119 comes up tops, murmuring in sweetest
reverie, musing - whispers a becalmed yet normally blood-
thirsty Psalmist usually wanting his enemies immediately
killed, but here he is the Adorer Infatuated
With his Lord so he’s become the Beloverer; that is a new
Pratchettian term - of his Beloved; the Psalmist rejoices in
the Lord’s word - more purified & refined - a thousandfold
more choice - than most rarefied cherished gold, rhyming
in the original; so enraptured by this am I, adding Ps 104 -
where the Lord’s soaring in his Chariot constructed by the
Clouds - so inspired worldly ambition to study fraudulent
Claims of the scammer trying to obstruct justice, forcing me
to relay thundering, spiteful words; its completely dissolving -
all that’s left is my spirit floating in an enchanted trance spun
by noble ideals - so this is what spiritual religion is, a way
to meditate on things we delight in changing physical into
joyous vehicles…
[Thursday Morning Reverie - 15 October 2015]
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