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Show CHRYSALIS PAGE 130 Is there truly a God? I hope there is - some loving, all-powerful parent who blows the spark of my life tenderly, who knows me intimately and values me as the apple of His eye. The rainbow doubles and vanishes. We walk to church in the afterglow. The boys run fast and far ahead of me. There, the choir sings: "God moves in a mysterious way, His wonders to perform; He plants his footsteps in the sea. And rides upon the storm. Deep in unfathomable mines Of never failing skill, He treasures up his bright designs And works his sovereign will. His purposes will ripen fast, Unfolding every hour. The bud may have a bitter taste, But sweet will be the flower." An ordinary man's death is depicted in Luigi Pirandello's The Man With The Flower In His Mouth. He says, "Death passed my way. It planted this flower in my mouth and said to me, 'Keep it, friend. I'll be back. . . .'" There is a flower from death in all our mouths. |