Lord, rub me hard, until I lather,
Churn me well, until I butter,
Fill me whole, until I splatter,
Leave me impossible, for anyone to gather.
Through my lather, I’ll scent their skin,
Through my butter, I’ll soften their chin,
Through my splatter, I’ll bring them within,
Through my gather, I’ll forgive their sins.
-W.E.
Believer or non-believer, in essence, every artist’s cry is a cry to be touched by divinity.
lonerloaner 