Poem March 3, 1986 Issue

Perfection's glory

MAXINE LE PELLEY

A seed of Truth is small—
so small we look right past,
and vain imaginings create their bloom
(no bloom at all).

But smallest seed of Truth
springs up in spite of tare—
vital, insistent,
and nourished by honest prayer.

Who can look past the branchings then,
filled with birds of the air
(your holy thoughts)?
Love's blossoms are already there.

For God is changeless,
ungerminating good—
perfection's glory
to be understood.

MAXINE LE PELLEY

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