Two seemingly conscious people

set their eyes upon the thistle.

One sees the weed, one sees the universe.

Therein lies the great divide.

Someone must speak for the

banished and the shunned, the

wounded and the wary. Someone

must pray the wolves across the

ice bridge to Minong. Someone

must speak for the part of the

world left dying on the side

of the road. Up over the ridge lives a

man who keeps bees. He sells the

honey or gives to friends when

there’s plenty.  He goes to

church where he is told of his

condition. The preacher sees a

poor lost sinner. God sees the Christ.

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