I see you, and desire to love
But should I try all fails
Or at the least falls so far short
That it is a pail imitation
Of what I know, what love
Should be, why my heart should
Do. I glimpse in you
And many others that secret,
Imago Dei laid deep
But I, in seeing it, fail
To see it and I know not why.
But then, perhaps, I do.
I look deeply at the Imago
but fail to attend rightly to the Dei.
All about me are those formed
In that astounding image,
Reformed in divine likeness,
Yet I seem all the more fascinated
Not by the astounding or the divine
But beautiful imitation; but it is but
Imitation. If I appreciate not
the source how can the mirror
be right? How pretty the text
if the author despised?
Who rightly loves a gift
should the giver be disliked?
And so I see you and do as I do
and get not close enough
for I look too much in shadow
and too little in the light new.
That I may come to you I wait
and return again and again
to that source which makes
all things to be

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