I stood in this sunsheltered place until I could see the face behind the face. All that had gone before had left no trace.
Down by the railway siding In our secret world- we were colliding. All the places we were hiding love- what was it we were thinking of?
So I watch you wash your hair underwater, unaware. And the plane flies through the air. Did you think you didn’t have to choose it? That I alone could win or lose it? In all the places we were hiding love- what was it we were thinking of?
In this house of make believe- divided in two, like Adam and Eve. You put out and I receive.
Down by the railway siding in our secret world we were colliding. In all the places we were hiding love- what was it we were thinking of?
The wheel is turning spinning round and round and the house is crumbling but the stairways stand. With no guilt and no shame, no sorrow or blame- whatever it is, we are all the same.
Making it up in our secret world. Shaking it up. Breaking it up. Making it up in our secret world.
Seeing things that were not there- on a wing on a prayer- in this state of disrepair."
What is ‘real?’
How do you define ‘real?’
If you’re talking about what you can feel- what you can smell- what you can taste and see- then ‘real’ is simply electrical signals interpreted by your brain."
The church need no longer aspire to ‘win the world’ as if for the first time. In many ways and in many cultures the world was was already won- then lost (the church having lost its own reason for being).
The church must (first) find itself again. Then and only then can it aspire to win the world back- not by empire, but by some beautifully strange form of decentralized compassion."
Whenever I look out at the snowy mountains at this hour and speak directly into the ear of the sky it’s you I’m thinking of.
You’re like the spirits the children invent to inhabit the stuffed horse and the doll.
I don’t know who hears me.
I don’t know who speaks when the horse speaks."