LOVE DRUNK
poetry File 1
opened August 1996
(last re-write June 10, 2001, La Lunette, France)
A...
ANOTHER
MORNING!
ANOTHER WHAT A BLESSING
A RIVER MESSAGE BEFORE THE WEDDING
A TREASURE FOUND
A WET AND FIERY DESTINY
B...
BRIDE BREAKTHROUGH
BRIAN'S BREAKTHROUGH
C...
II. CORINTHIANS 3
DÉ
DRINKING FREEDOM
F...
FLOWING GOD OUT
G...
GIFTS
GIVE UNTO THE LORD THE GLORY OF HIS NAME...
GOD'S DRUNKARDS
GOD TEEMS WITH LIFE
H...
HE WHO MAKES MOUNTAINS STAND
HE ONLY TAUGHT THEM ON RADIANT DAYS
HIS EARTH IS RADIANCE
I...
I AM A BIRD SPECKLED
I AM SECRET AND HIDDEN
IF YOU HAVE NO REASON FOR JOY
IN ACTION SPEAKING
IN GOD'S HOUSE
L...
LAMB SONG
LOVE LEAPS UP
LOVE'S
GREAT BLESSING
M...
MEDITATIONS FROM PSALM 104
MY PEACEFUL FREEDOM
N...
NEGATIVE FAITH COMES EASY
NEW SHOES
NO TEACHER
NOTHING IS SEPARATE FROM NOTHING
O...
ONLY LOVE
OUR ESSENTIAL JOURNEY NOW
P...
POEMS VISIT ME IN THE NIGHT
POETRY IS LIKE
PURITY OF HEART IS EMPTINESS
Q....
Q & A
R...
RELIGION MUST BE TRANSCENDED!
REST AND ACTION
RIBALDO AT THE MARKET
RIBALDO
IN GEHENNA
RIBALDO IS DRUNK
RIBALDO IS DRUNK AGAIN
RIBALDO IS WEEPING
RIBALDO'S MORNING DEVOTION
RIBALDO
THE FOOL
RIBALDO THE TROUBADOUR
ROCKET MAN
S...
II. CORINTHIANS 3
SELF AS WORM AND ROSE
SOUL-SOIL AND WORMS
SURRENDER'S FRUIT
T...
THE DIRTY FILAMENT
THE OTHER LIGHT AND RIVER
TWO
CHRISTS
THE HOLY CHILD
THE RIVER TEACHER SPEAKS
THIS GIFT
TWO MORNING REFLECTIONS BY THE RIVER
THE
PATH OF THE RIGHTEOUS
THE REVELERS DRINK
THE UPSURGE
THE WORM AND THE LORD OF HOST
U...
UNIVERSAL ZEN
W...
WRITING WITH GREAT POETS
Y...
YOUR PASSIONATE MOUTH
YOU WALK ON WORDS
69 POEMS
LAST POEM IN THE FILE: GIFTS
THE POEMS.....
Q & A
What is the look of
God in the eye?
Young joy!
What is the music of God
in the soul?
Belly laughter!
What is the deed of God?
Freeing creation into reality!
What is reality?
Harmonious, deathless,
fluid, relational Love.
A
WET AND FIERY DESTINY
There is a wet destiny
to be met in water
and wine:
a destiny of fire
in extreme obduracy
and love.
RELIGION MUST BE TRANSCENDED!
Religion itself must be
transcended Religion itself
must be transcended
by reality
that birthed religion! by the reality religion points to!
We must simply surrender
We must simply let us go
into wind-fullness,
into wind-fullness,
water-lushness,
water-lushness,
green-riotness, green-riotness,
overflowing
overflowing
emptiness emptiness
of love. of love.
Yes! Yes!
Yes!
Ah.
ANOTHER WHAT A BLESSING
(AFTER RUMI)
Freedom depends on nothing
to be free...
What a blessing.
All Life flows out of
the free center...
What
a blessing.
The free center is everywhere.
What a blessing.
It is wind-like freedom
that builds mountains
and molds stones.
What a blessing.
All things at their wind-like core
love God, the compassionate,
joyous freedom!
What a blessing.
Words from the free core
call to the free core.
What a blessing!
With enough freedom
filling the body, it is possible
to fly.
What a blessing.
At the core
we are all Awake!
What
a blessing!
SELF AS WORM AND ROSE
(Two poems)
I. SELF AS A WORM
The self is a worm
in
a rose.
Both its pride
and humility
are obstacles
to God's freedom--
being eaters
of
the fragrance.
II. SELF AS A ROSE
Self in Christ
is a rose
of constant bloom
rooted in the central sea
of the Sun.
POETRY IS LIKE
Poetry is like
painting a colorful picture
of music
with words.
TWO MORNING REFLECTIONS BY THE RIVER
I.
We are the expression
of God
we
have been seeking.
II.
Before the world was,
this instant is.
THE DIRTY FILAMENT
Satan spreads
an illusive
dirty
filament
in the mind,
an illusive
dirty filament
spun of lies
to catch twisted
little things,
smudges, warpies,
fly-spatters.
The broom of Christ
cleans those cobs away!
Zowie!
Such a pretty little attic
above a clean room!
MY PEACEFUL FREEDOM
My full, fearless peace
is in the Lord
who is a flowing, radiant river
of creative being.
I
AM A BIRD SPECKLED
I am a bird speckled
with the blood of Christ
flying in an open sky.
Black feathers speckled red.
A
white breasted bird
in blue sky
singing a freedom
dependant on nothing
but the blood on my body
and wind.
BRIDE BREAKTHROUGH
The light breaks through!
and the sky throbs around us,
humming like a blue bee..
God
touches a word
and it flows like yellow oil,
ringing like monastery bells
on a clear morning.
The heart opens:
God's
yellow oil
gathers in clay cups.
Christ the ladle bearer
spoons the liquid out.
Everyone drinks!
DRINKING
FREEDOM
Drinking naked freedom
from the free core,
the wind makes a coal glow.
Deep in the heart, a yellow coal
glows in the blue night.
Suddenly our bodies ignite
in God's hands.
We are torches
burning in the wedding chamber,
illuminating the Bridegroom's face.
GOD TEEMS WITH LIFE
God teems with Life
and pours out all Creation
in
His Son:
the speaking Word,
the Word that reveals
the unfolding Holy
in the Feminine, nurturing flow.
All
creatures are potentials
of glory
in the unspoken potential
of Love's creative beauty:
brimming up, pressing
against
dead hearts...
spilling through
opening ones.
LOVE'S GREAT BLESSING
Blessed, all Creation
waits
for blessing
to be the blessing
of Life! for life
in Life.
IN ACTION SPEAKING
We
pour out a rich action,
like love's silver oil
on a head,
and God is revealed:
the unspoken Word
is spoken.
And in this speaking
we are as revealed
as God is.
SURRENDER'S FRUIT
To find ourselves
is to find all bondage
of fear and selfishness
glossed over
with veneers of good.
To find God
is
to find all freedom
of Life and Love
naked and open,
plus our own free self
growing and brimming.
FLOWING
GOD OUT
The Spirit of God
is the Spirit of Creation.
All God creates
longs to fall back into God
and
flow God out,
relaxing
into God's fluid action
of freedom.
RIBALDO AT THE MARKET
Ribaldo
the monk
saw a tall, thin woman,
with hair the color of
the King's crown
spilling all over her shoulders,
twisting
down her blouse,
streaming over her hips,
twirling in a breath of breeze,
tumbling like yellow mist
down to her shapely knees.
She glanced at him with green eyes,
like cold jade, like glacial ice,
like tiger's hungry eyes.
"No beauty there,"
Ribaldo said and sighed,
crossed himself and passed by,
muttering a prayer and benediction.
Ribaldo the monk
turned round
the corner of a melon booth
and ran into a huge woman--melon sized!:
Cheeks like apple tarts,
nose like a broken banana,
arms like pork sausage,
legs like Yule logs,
a big bodied, hen shaped,
turkey breasted, grain sack-bottomed,
cow-sized, horse-sized, whale-size of a woman!
And she glowed with the glory in every cell...
She was mirror-faced, window-hearted,
wind-chested, sky-bellied,
a river running high, a white ocean
at day-full tide.
She smiled. "Goo day tu ye, Sir"
Angels squeezed out between her brown teeth,
leapt off her lips, linked hands, pranced
like a quick rainbow around her,
like gold dust in a wind storm.
Ribaldo spun around
and thought a secret sin:
"Oh to mount that woman
and feel the fire in her bones;
to be roasted there,
cook my body up into a feast,
fall
through her into paradise
and be eaten by God."
He reproved himself with a laugh,
turned the corner and forgot her completely
at
the sight
of a miraculous
patty of cheese.
RIBALDO THE TROUBADOUR
Ribaldo the monk
picked up a stick.
It became a 6 stringed lute
in his hands.
Ribaldo the monk
put a leaf upon his head.
It became a great
feathered hat.
He danced and sang
unto his Bridegroom
from sunrise
until
just before dawn.
All the people think
Ribaldo is mad...
the angels think
he's awake.
RIBALDO IS DRUNK
Ribaldo is drunk.
He drank the gold beer
of the sun.
He drank the silver wine
of the moon.
He drank the blush
of roses from a bush.
He drank the gin
of a river.
He
couldn't get enough.
Now he is lying on his back
staring at the sky.
He is drinking something else.
Angels are leaping
into his heart.
RIBALDO IN GEHENNA
Ribaldo the monk
is standing in a garbage dump.
There is a great stench
of rottenness
and everything is burning.
White smoke is drifting up
into the clear sky
which is full of birds.
He is laughing and laughing.
He sees only himself
and his Bridegroom.
GOD'S DRUNKARDS
Ribaldo is under a bridge
dancing with many dancers
who are drunk
with the wine of God.
"Ribaldo, teach us
of the Rose of the
world!"
they clamor.
"There are no teachers.
There is only
the Rose of the world,"
Ribaldo
whispers.
He turns aside.
He is watching a bee
crawling into a flower.
He is three years old.
RIBALDO
IS DRUNK AGAIN
Ribaldo is drunk again.
He staggers down the street
dressed in rags.
Sunlight is in his footprints
a path of the
moon beneath his feet.
He sees only divine creatures everywhere.
Look, a fat prince is gutting fish
and scowling at him;
a
husky princess hawking olives
hides her children
behind her skirts
and curses
as he stumbles by.
A
noble Barron comes by.
He wants to arrest Ribaldo for being drunk.
Ribaldo laughs and goes with the Barron
to see the King of Keys,
sitting
in the throne room, happily
behind bars.
RIBALDO IS WEEPING
Ribaldo is sitting on a street corner
weeping,
crying out to his Beloved
for more drunkards,
more revelers
to stagger through the streets
with him
spilling
out
God's wine.
THE REVELERS DRINK
The revelers drink
God's wine
until they disappear
in sunlight.
Only the wine remains,
drinking itself.
The revelers reappear
at midnight.
They are perfectly sober.
RIBALDO'S MORNING DEVOTION
Ribaldo the monk
is drunk again
on
sunshine in the leaves,
on the sound of his own voice
calling unto God.
The silver shivers
have him;
golden
fire is in his bones.
In his drunkenness
he despises it all
for the naked nothing.
The naked nothing has him:
the
dilating soul,
the freedom of unmoving breath.
In his drunkenness
he despises it all,
falling with silence
into unwordable substance.
Again, the silver shivers have him,
the golden fire
and three beautiful woman,
whom he once knew in a
distant city,
have encircled him with their arms.
All day long Ribaldo has been drunk
with the Bridegroom's love.
He has played the fool
during market day:
he has been blind,
blundering and stumbling,
his mind blurred, his words slurred.
He has been despised,
an embarrassment to good people.
At sunset Ribaldo's voice rises,
calling
on his God.
A cloud passes;
leaves darken in purple shadows:
it is night.
Ribaldo is alone, outside the city
in the dark.
He rises up to dance,
his mind sober,
his heart full of light—
astonished at its own clarity.
NO TEACHER
There is no teacher,
no disciples:
only the worm
and the Rose.
Kill the worm
by turning it to Love:
The world is a paradise
of roses.
ANOTHER MORNING!
Another morning!
Good Day to You,
Beloved! Silver River!
Shinning Star!
Listen...
Silent is His voice!
Smell!
Beyond the world
is His fragrance.
Stepping through
the face of the world,
the worm hunter
has arrived.
What an adventure!
II. CORINTHIANS 3
The veil is ripped
from Moses' face.
Mists float away
from the moon.
A golden glory
shines from Moses' eyes.
The moon
disappears
into the sun.
THE PATH OF THE RIGHTEOUS
Only by a process
of subtracting
what
God isn't
can we arrive
at what God is.
A voice cries,
"Clear the way of the Lord
in the
wilderness."
Look!
The path of the right one
grows brighter
and brighter...
in radical, subtractive
simplicity.
THE WORM AND THE LORD OF HOST
The worm is a false prophet
for it claims
that God works in it.
Why be a false prophet?
God works only in God.
TWO CHRISTS
There are two
Christs:
a static one
and a dynamic one.
There is only
the worm
and the Rose.
ONLY
LOVE
I am the subject
of God's awareness.
As such, God wants
to look through me,
as
through
an opened window,
to see God.
Only Love
opens
windows.
A TREASURE FOUND
There is a Pearl
hidden in a field,
a Treasure lost
that must be refound.
What? This Pearl
is a River
that everything
can drink.
What? This Treasure
is an open heart drinking.
THE
HOLY CHILD
The holy child believes
in the God of Love
and plays.
The miraculous child
believes in the sudden
intrusion of Beauty.
This child dips fingers in color,
plunges into flowers,
plucks strings and listens,
runs
its hands lovingly
over bodily decay.
This child
watches like an osprey,
flies like a swallow,
swims
like an otter,
forgives like a river.
To have such a simple heart
must be like a heaven
walking on earth.
A RIVER MESSAGE BEFORE THE WEDDING
Wide open giving
with no reference to self.
Such is the fullness
of
salvation
in the welling forth
of God's infinite
being.
NOTHING IS SEPARATE FROM NOTHING
Nothing
is separate
from
Nothing.
THE RIVER TEACHER SPEAKS
I asked the River
to
be my teacher.
It winked at me
with a billion
bubbling eyes of foam.
I take it that the answer
was
"Yes."
POEMS VISIT ME IN THE NIGHT
Poems visit me in the night.
I let them roll by.
Why should wakefulness
disturb
my slumber?:
I who criticize by day
those who teach
that Christ
sleeps somewhere
in an unknown tomb.
NEW SHOES
I'm wearing new shoes,
river shoes, wind shoes,
white moccasins made of clouds,
made
of morning mists,
to walk on familiar shores...
Stone shoes, green-leaf shoes,
wheat shoes, potato shoes
to walk with children
on wild, mysterious beaches.
I sit in a river and name it:
it washes over me--
I un-name it and become river.
In
rabbit brush you can find a path
like a shooting star.
Lizards and angels run together there.
I'm singing back to a bird in a tree
that
sings to me,
and writing a poem to you
from the backside of this page
where my shoes are sunk in deep mud,
in goose doo...
though my feet aren't
even close to touching the ground.
WRITING WITH GREAT POETS
I like to write poems
with
great poets.
We have a contest,
them writing on
the backside on the page,
me on the front.
It is a loving
competition,
each of us spurring the other on
like those tree tenors
singing in Rome,
like a kindergarten child
who
loves
his teachers
who love
him.
LAMB SONG
The Lamb is full
of
mountain light
as it walks
through valley shadows.
A voice of pure streams
is in its silent bleat.
Within
our ears
the water changes clothes,
shifts its colors.
We speak this and that.
When mountain light
falls
upon us,
our many words
melt away
unto a few...
and weave together
into Lamb song.
IF YOU HAVE NO REASON FOR JOY
If you have no reason for joy,
then dance because the sky is blue
and the growing grass is green.
Spin in thankfulness
because your lungs grow large
then small,
because the air caresses you
and lifts your hair,
because
you have eyes to see
form and miraculous color,
because of water.
And if you can,
speak these words,
"I love you"
unto the nothing you have always feared
you'd be...
and let nothing echo back,
"I love you,"
as light leaps up
in
your bones.
THE OTHER LIGHT AND RIVER
The famous sun
that Cicero knew
has arisen fresh today:
what a
wonder!
And I have seen
that the river flows
as it has always flowed--
running on forever.
But I long for the
soft
and liquid light
that is the lamb of God,
that shone in Christ
and Francis,
that lived in Joan of Arc.
Sweet flowing, soft
and innocent light
that comforts all the soul,
I would let go
and fall back through
your fluid white feather.
THIS GIFT
The Holy Spirit
is a fountain,
bubbling
up,
crystalline,
welling up,
laughing,
flowing from eternity
through earth
to
eternity.
LOVE LEAPS UP
Grace springs,
liquid light rises
in the brain
always,
yet the brain sleeps
deep in the miracle.
Love leaps up
within every bodily cell,
thrilling the body,
while
the mind drifts,
lost in a myriad
anxious thoughts.
The Spirit pours through God,
and God, like light
in the water
shines.
Yet the gates of the body
are shut,
and how shall the glory
shimmer through?
When the heart opens,
grace springs up
as liquid light rises
in the brain,
and love, leaping within
every bodily cell
is heard singing,
as a river is heard
within a river stone!
and the Spirit keeps pouring
God through, like light
in the water shining.
THE UPSURGE
The Holy Spirit
constantly flows
in the wisdom
of God.
The upsurge
is ecstatically relentless.
Why not fall into Christ
and
become drunk?
Why not come clear
in God's fluid wisdom?
MEDITATIONS FROM PSALM 104
From the fountain of God,
which
is the Holy Spirit,
flows forth gnats and ants,
flies and caterpillars.
God breathes His Ruah
and a baby otter
bursts from the
womb kicking,
and a newborn gazelle
hits the ground
almost at a run.
Ah! WHHooo...
God breathes and blows...
and an elephant drops
its hose-nosed child--flump,
flump, flump--into the dust,
its glistening ears wet
with momma's mucus.
And
waters teem
with silverlings,
clouds of mackerel
and red tides of sociable shrimp
because God whistles
the Holy Spirit
out Her nostrils luxuriantly.
And if God should suck breath
--all would die!
mankind and animals,
fish and birds, plants
and insects withering
to dust, and dust
dissolving to light
and light halting
in its lightning tracks
and
blackness burning
until only the infinite
face of God would be.
And love-real people would pass
with innocent animals
through God into God,
while all ego-born, flimflam flummery
would die in the flaming dark!
YOU WALK ON WORDS
There are words
that flash like lover's eyes,
like naked fields of stars
seen from dark mountains.
Such words confuse
the chattering mind
for these are the jewel box
words of silence.
Open the jewel box,
pour out its words:
Voila! Light upon
your path.
You move along like music;
life is the dance.
Sorrows left behind,
you walk on words
to
greet all that opens
before you...
You walk on words.
I.
PURITY OF HEART IS EMPTINESS
Purity of heart
is Emptiness as Being
and Being as Emptiness,
and Being in Emptiness
and Emptiness in Being as Becoming.
This
is also Poverty of Spirit
and Perfect Fullness
Freely Overflowing Nothing.
II.
UNIVERSAL ZEN
(That
the body of sin might be undone...)
St. Paul
The loosening of all tightness,
the dissolving of all energies
formed
by falsehood
is the emergence of Perfect Poverty
as Perfect Fullness in Perfect Emptiness.
III.
OUR ESSENTIAL JOURNEY NOW
The blameless, selfless,
playful child
of wild wisdom
shall
lead them home
to themselves
as unique, pure, no-selves
in the overflowing ocean
of rich, naked being.
BRIAN'S BREAKTHROUGH
(To the way of our Lord.)
To the Altar, the flame,
and the sacrifice.
Turning against the self,
cutting open the dark lamb,
the frenetic cloud passes through,
and a thunder of voices.
Repelled, we thrust ourselves away
from a
familiar, essential sin
and fall backwards,
naked, blind and dumb,
plunging downward
into Light.
All things spin around,
down is up, and up down—
neither has any meaning:
only a simple flame,
only a many-eyed Lamb,
and peace...
like a
ceaseless river.
SOUL-SOIL AND WORMS
Soul-soil, rich tilth,
worm invested and softened,
all seed strewn, and wet,
with a root riot
sprouting a green revelry
that's drunken with gold.
HIS EARTH IS RADIANCE
Are things empty of spirit,
or is it us?
Down at the bottom,
deep within the roots of things,
spirit is lush, thick,
resilient, silky...
and the cool, dry,
bright
breath of spirit
becomes hot and moist
in the dark essence of things,
and things become
luminous and
spacious with spirit.
I AM SECRET AND HIDDEN
I am secret and hidden,
silent in Christ,
watching, praying
in
the constant moment
without a single movement
of my luminous lips.
HE WHO MAKES MOUNTAINS STAND
Love loves by body.
He who makes mountains stand
makes me stand.
He who makes water flow down
lays me down to rest
in His green arms.
Love loves my soul.
If I should dress
in every fabric of the world,
I would only hide myself
from
myself--
yet remain naked to Him.
Love loves my spirit:
Naked is God,
therefore I love Him
who seeks my
nakedness
—in life and in death—
that I might only wear
beautiful robes
of starlight...
shining in His eyes.
REST AND ACTION
God is like
a little pouch of rose petals
laying all night
between
a beautiful woman's breast.
God is like a golden gazelle
plunging through blue brush
in twilight.
HE ONLY TAUGHT THEM ON RADIANT DAYS
He only taught them on radiant days
that were peaceful as seeds unfolding,
as intense as
throats of iris flowers.
He moved with the unmoving breath
and only spoke when silence sang.
How could they grasp
words that made them drunk on water?
How could they confine with creeds
seven loaves transforming into thousands?
He walked through their turmoil
unwounded by the dimming of light
so he could be light
to blind children,
a soft salve settling into wounds.
He saved his rage for snakes
in religious garments
who coiled their minds around cathedrals,
having never heard daylight crackle
like fire in the morning grass,
running its golden threads
through dew.
And when a sip of fire
spinning off the sword of Eden
scalded his throat to silence him,
and a black breath of death
blew out the lantern of
his heart
he rolled off the edge of the world
down into its slow soul,
that, weary of suffering,
was crying to Him for freshness,
for sunflowers, for roses,
for crowns of wheat grass
on every head,
bread on every table
with wine spilling from glass
to
glass
and only the wind separating hearts,
only the infinity of stars
secluding minds.
ROCKET MAN
Jesus came out of the moist light
of an opened tomb
like out of a womb
of heaven in earth.
He passed through the north
like a dry desert wind
and through the south
like a wet sea wind wending.
He gathered souls
out of the netherworld
like countless blooms
yielding
into his arms:
and ripening, burning, throbbing
they sang, their souls rang
with their mouths wide open,
ascending into His song.
IN GOD'S HOUSE
Lord, in your house
bees hum, rocks sing;
the winds, without words,
speaks messages;
waterfalls wildly celebrate
the low murmurs
of distant, secret springs.
Your fingers tend tender roots
and open tight bound blossoms
with such care that they believe
their unfoldment comes
merely from a natural peace.
It is you who work
to let freshness loose
in ten thousand acres of aspens;
who pours out stars from your watering can
in a slow shower through the dark
of Life-packed space.
I pray for the movement of your fingers
to unfold me into such a love
as would make me like a waterfall
of star showers...
or like the mysterious serenading
of earth by the trees.
YOUR PASSIONATE MOUTH
It is the breath of life
that makes me tremble
like a blue flower
on
a slim stem.
I would wash
in luminous waters
and see angels swarming
amidst flowers with the bees.
I would climb high trees
to drink blue sky into my belly...
I would suckle on
the silver rain of tears
when grief comes...
and swim down rivers of mud
into dark crevices of earth
to mourn with worms
and beetles.
It is the sense of life
that does this...
and God...
God!
the feast of it!
the lush profusion
streaming through stones,
through grass—the primal things—
the flames, the leaves.
*
I love your pure gifts,
your cornucopia mouth
singing concrete love songs
to abstract, intellectual ears.
When the disciples found you on the beach
after you had risen
why didn't they mention
the seaweed wrapped around your neck,
the
gulls soaring above your head,
or the sunshine in your fingertips?
Why didn't they write about
the cargo of flowers
you loaded into their boats?
NEGATIVE FAITH COMES EASY
Why do we so easily
believe
in the anguished
voice
of pain
and trust
with such difficulty
the silent,
singing
voice
of
ecstatic
freedom?
Scripture says
God in His Lamb
took away from us
forever
our
right
to be
punished.
GIVE UNTO THE LORD
THE GLORY OF HIS NAME...
Creation
is the mirror
and receptacle
of Divine glory
that comes in countless
mysterious ways
through us.
We are called
to give loving
consciousness
to all living things,
to all inanimate things,
to God Himself.
See, when we believe
the little calf skips,
the trees clap their hands,
the stones cry out,
the mountains sing.
Creation is a feast
waiting for us
to begin it.
GIFTS
1.
All gifts
flow in God
2.
If you want
to receive
all gifts--
flow
in God.