Another's musings

So the fine oil of love rises out of the hidden depths

through cracks in the hard strata of the world,

so subtle we cannot see, but only feel it

when, drawn to us, it finds its way

and seeps in.

We are tenants in this world, not its owners.  We are stewards of the earth, not its rulers.  We are servants of each other, no matter our station in life.  Whatever roles we occupy are temporary assignments to be left in better condition when we leave than when we entered.

Gee spending a bit too much time worrying about end times of me. Stumbled upon it in a blog by Jim Burklo American theologian.

Like this. Says stuff feel agree with. Lot more but you can direct yourself to his `Musings`.