It seems to me I view mankind with a sense of compassion—a constant perception. Mine is a brief, swift looking back: I heal the sick, I renew lives... I remember the hart and the brook...man’s insatiable thirst.
Children come and animals come...the ox and the donkey have been friends. A shepherd, I still follow hills, hills of resurrection they may be. Perhaps history may call me a man of righteousness. Perhaps history may not stop. I speak to history. I say, once again:
“Go and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost...”
Teach as I have taught...remind them of grace.
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Tammuz 11
I leave no tomb, no crypt, no marker.
Finality may not be a friend...
When I leave shall I carry a handful of earth with me?
James, Peter, Matthew, Mark...Mother and Father...Lazarus...Miriam... each one is mine but for how long?