--------The foot of the cross--------
Enough for me this place, still strange to me and me a stranger
Enough to see this small patch of rough wood
The rest towering too tall, too lofty looming for me to grasp
Enough for me the gift of this mysterious tree
A space carved out for me beneath and within it
A bowl hollowed hallowed and now smoothed endless in capacity
Enough for me to know myself somehow carried there
Received and held there
Despite myself, uncomprehending and unsure
Enough for me to rest here, sleep here
Soul-stilled and quiet waiting
Weaned with, and weaned within
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