by David Robinson
A thousand wasted pilgrimages
kissing the hand of bone-dry tradition
wielding cob-webbed relics and a million remote words
with much labour and little relating
…life becomes
…static
The King whom you seek in these things,
unless you bring Him with you,
you will not find Him.
A thousand wasted pilgrimages
kissing the hand of bone-dry tradition
wielding cob-webbed relics and a million remote words
with much labour and little relating
…life becomes
…static
The King whom you seek in these things,
unless you bring Him with you,
you will not find Him.