flying joy; afternoon piano version

He who bends to himself a joy

Does the winged life destroy;

But he who kisses the joy as it flies

Lives in eternity’s sunrise.

(William Blake)

Flying joy-- afternoon piano version

Why don’t I ever sit down and listen to him play?

I will miss this when he’s gone, this holy background music

It’s lent, but he asks if he can jump to Easter songs; he misses the Alleluias

And I sing them quietly, rebelliously with him 

while I shred chicken

Why don’t I sit more? Just to listen? 

Do I realize how blessed I am to have this as the soundtrack playing right now in my life?

Yet, it’s ok

to let them spill heedlessly through these rooms 

These notes are not for me

They are not mine to hold

They fall from the piano generously, excessively 

like Michigan snowflakes and like grace 

They pour out like a waterfall

And they will keep pouring

Flowing to people and places I can’t imagine

And I will be wherever I am

Cheering on the outpouring 

Even when it rushes beyond my hearing

Grateful to have known this river when it was just a tiny stream

And for this moment

when the chattering of his springtime brook flows right through my Lent

and teaches me to rejoice, pray, and give thanks 

while I learn to love, and to let go