Do not ask

Astounded by love’s impact, my tears fell
As if a door was opened up by you
The reservoir of grief, the flooded bell,
The marble on the shore, the hidden view.

I stayed still and by you I was held
In your golden cloud, I felt embraced
You covered me with warmth,I was your child
A candle in the gale,a shining face

I was silent,I was even dumb
They who see a face can not unknow
Love is not a method nor a sum
Nor can logic point the way to go

Do not ask for knowledge or belief
Do not ask reprieve from human grief

A metaphor

There is a green hill far away
There are hundreds, let’s make hay
We don’t mow our hills for grass
They have heather tops alas
No local birds do a fly pas
As the Pennines are so vast
I took a test I never passed
in the Lord I put my trust

If the lower fields are green
There are worms at work unseen
From Winter Hill we saw North Wales
The hills aren’t green, they’re hit by hail
They have snow and they have rain
The Irish Sea must take the blame
The Atlantic is so strong
Never admit that you are wrong

The green hill is a metaphor
Blessed is the God who saw