Do
your
ears
itch? Mine do. More
often than I care
to admit beyond the old sayin’
that means
someone’s talkin’ ’bout you (‘cept for the other old sayin’ ’bout
the shoe fittin’)
so yeah, my ears itch.
Don’t yours? After all we long for
something
someone
a chorus
a beat
anything but the divine
surrender to fill the gap lost
in the exegetical mirage and abandonment of
small
Creeds which mean
everything
except to the folks with itches
that can’t be scratched any longer by Word
or Creed or that old
time
religion
but only by the deed of their own
play, the lead in their own
act, a curtain call of
fables traded for afflictions
a swan song snuffing out
grace
and
holy
So do your
ears itch?
Mine do. But for the ache of
truth.
The Holy Ghost rides in the chariot of Scripture, and not in the waggon of modern thought – Spurgeon
