By a River.
August 21st 2003
Received by PJR.
New York City.
If I heard you may be walking by a river
I’d drive to it and wait;
you might pass me on your way.
But, no. That will not happen;
I’m 2,000 years too late.
Instead, you leave your hallowed home
and come to visit me!
trapped here upon the mortal Earth;
how could this ever be?
Rather than with joy I’m filled
—and wonder: is it true?—
with disbelief, and fear and doubt;
I can’t see how it could be you.
Mark my words, as these I write,
but also let me state:
Your visits and your tender care
I do appreciate.
Bearing darkness of the earth,
to me you pay sincere respect.
Oh why, with me, you bother do—
so blind, so soiled, and imperfect…
You know perfectly well what the answer to your question is.
Not only do I love you
with the Love of the Father,
but I am inexorably drawn to you
by the harmonious merging of our desires—
yours to hear the message the Father has given me to share,
and mine that I may share it with you.
Above and beyond us,
is the Father, Himself,
who created all of this,
—thee and me—
so as to share the harmonious desires He felt
that led to His expressing His Soul in us.
Rest assured my desire to come to you and share,
by this writing,
His Love and His Desire for our Loves
is just as strong in me,
as your desire to encounter your Jesus and see him
is for you.
And these desires are growing within us day by day.
Oh P___, the Father has gone to such a great extent
and fostered His children with such delicate care
that it pulls at the strings of my heart
when I sit to contemplate: His Art, His Craft.
And I thank Him for being my Father,
for being the Loving Father who cares so much
for His highest Creation;
who extends to us, of His,
the kindest Consideration:
first, by allowing us completely unfettered free will,
and also by showing us
—and all who reach—
a path to the home of our deepest dreams—
with each step we take, forward or back;
around each corner we turn;
with each decision,
with each hope,
with each desire.
He creates tirelessly, in our favor—
always building bridges to a harmonious future,
keeping in view a horizon far beyond what we can imagine,
even as we try to stretch and grow and perceive.
If I knew you would be walking along a river
soon some day,
I’d rush to it ahead
so you would pass me on your way—
so that I might have a chance to tell you
all about the Father’s Love—
just what it means to me
and how It can become a part of you.
I know you have stopped writing, to just be near me,1
and I sincerely appreciate that.
Perhaps the five o’clock train to Gladstone
will do for a river—until another time.
But in any case I must be on my way.
Leaving you now until we pass each other again, I will say: Continue to pray to the Father for the gift of His Love to descend upon you—to make you its home.
1 Actually, after the prior paragraph: too stunned to continue. PJR.