Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness Unfeathered unbelief would fall Through the layered fullness of thermal Updrafts like a rock; this red-tailed Hawk drifts and slides, unhurried Though hungry, lazily scornful Of easy meals off carrion junk, Expertly waiting elusive provisioned Prey: a visible emptiness Above an invisible plenitude. The sun paints the Japanese Fantail copper, etching Feathers against the big sky To my eye's delight, and blesses The better-sighted bird with a shaft Of light that targets a rattler In a Genesis-destined death.
The people with whom I grew up talked a lot about breaking the will. The task of every devout parent was to break the will of the child. I don't remember ever hearing it used by adults on one another, but that may be a more or less willful defect in my memory.
The assumption underlying this linchpin in the program for Christian development in our church was, apparently, that the will, especially a child's will, is contrary to ...1