The ancient love never dies.
Before you or I took our first breath,
There was an ancient love
That whispered our name.
We may have heard the whisper and maybe not.
But when it whispered, we didn’t always listen,
Though it never forsook us.
Sometimes it whispered our name in the wind.
Sometimes it whispered its name from the sea.
Sometimes it whispered our name in the storm.
And sometimes
it whispered our name in the kiss of a mother
Or the kiss of a child.
The ancient love was always there and knew our name
And I will thank it with my last breath.
And it will still be there.
In case you think that the ancient love is God,
Or perhaps the beautiful order of the universe,
But You’d be wrong, because I think it is
but one tool in eternity's toolbox.
But, unlike my toolbox.
It is never misplaced and never wears out.
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