All my hopes are

never so broad, so far-fetched

as Your love.

Your love bears me and my heaviness.

Your love bears repeating.

Your love hangs heavy

like a cloak on me.

Your love cloaks the tracks of my error and my greatest offenses.

Your love tracks me when

I wander

in the tracks of Your love to take me home.

Your love offends as it touches the unclean –

which many think is some other person, but which is really

me.

Your love wildly runs a never-ending course through the air,

through hearts and veins,

through skin and

spoken words and

silent eyes.

Your love, unbearable in its undeservedness.

Your love, far from my knowing, has

fetched me once and for all to

Yourself.

Yet You repeat it to me always –

its breadth, universe-like, overshadowing, overtaking me

as I wind my own way through the valley.

Your love: the pursuer in the darkness, hurries me on

– but Your love also: the sun rising at the end of the darkness.

You clean me and I

leave with You my dirt, my dust.

Your love is a place filled with hopeful occupants yet always is spacious.

There is always space.