by Josiah Peachey
“The Lord’s Day is an eighth and eternal day, consecrated by the resurrection of Christ, prefiguring the eternal repose of soul and body. There we shall rest and see, see and love, love and praise.” ~Augustine, The City of God
My Love, my Lord, I sought Him at His tomb
who from the first of days had woven all with song
then rested good the world-week, till gloom
Into the garden-glory wrecked we wrong.
Long time we lay unmade by dark of sin
until our Light broke forth, womb-woven, weak;
God came among us flesh, then as our kin
He wept a garden-grief of death, and bleak.
My Love! My Lord! I find Him now anew
Ancient of days restored; His dawning thunders in
to wake our world’s remaking, week’s retracing, time’s askew
with timelessness by Love who wholes the sundered
elements of us. Unbound He weaves our moments thus;
toward time transposed when all our days are Eighth, and glorious.
Josiah Peachey enjoys writing, conversation, philosophy, and naps.
Photography by Kenneth Godoy