Love over Death

What time the mighty moon was gathering light

Love paced the thymy plots of Paradise,

And all about him rolled his lustrous eyes;

When, turning round a cash, full in view

Death, walking all alone beneath a yew,

And talking to himself, first met his sight:

'You must be gone,' said Death, 'these walks are mine.'

Love wept and spread his sheeny vans for flight;

Yet ere he parted said, 'This hour is thine:

Thou art the shadow of life, and as the tree

Stands in the sun and shadows all beneath,

So in the light of great eternity 

Life eminent creates the shade of death;

The shadow passeth when the tree shall fall,

But I shall reign for ever over all.'

I'd like to believe love wins over death.

Three years ago I felt broken.
I unfortunately had to meet my weakness face to face and had to call my own bluff of strength in the light of truth.
Since that time I found a cure for that weakness; re imagine, or better yet, redefine my identity. By having my identity no longer be found in that brokenness or the faces I used to try and hide the brokenness, but instead in something greater; something more Devine than you or I.

There I was a daughter. There I was whole. There I was loved. And that's the kind of identity that felt peaceful to me.

But that was three years ago, and in the shadow of change I forgot the cure.

As much as I love my life now, it all changed so quickly I sometimes forget I had a part in putting it all together. In a whirlwind of putting this with that and sewing my future together, I now find myself graduated, working, married, and in a new city. And the identity that seemed so appealing three years ago has somehow slipped away with the current as I have been (with furious strokes) trying to keep up with the current.

I feel like it is time to stop swimming and float to where the water is cool and the sun is hot; in the green pasture. That is where love wins over death; every time. Wholeness rules over brokenness, security over confusion, peace over the storm and the spirit over me.
The better of all the paradoxes that seem to rule me take over in the arms of Abba.