A love
which leans not toward what is pleasing,
nor the warmth that comes and goes,
but something much deeper.

This love descends
like quiet rain on stone,
or a drenching rain on a dry field.

A self-giving love
which does not ask
if the ground deserves it.

It simply falls.

It bends toward the broken,
lingers with the unwanted,
waits beside the wandering.

Hidden in the wounds of
Jesus Christ,
this love speaks no words.

And somewhere,
in the small mercy
we offer one another,

the same eternal love
is still pouring
into the world.