Sunday morning has come and gone.
We ate our fill,
and were very proud we had cleaned our spiritual plate.
We heaped our plates with
And walked out the stained-glass doors
And Monday we sat down in passive wontedness,
occupied and busy and
quite unconcerned with eating again.
Like a child who picked his plate clean and refused a return visit,
we have been foolish in our spiritual feeding,
negligent with regard to our need.
And Sunday was long ago.
We cared not for the spiritual deficiency
that slowly crept through our bones
nor did we note the way our hearts
grew languidly cold.
our bellies are beginning to growl.
Slowly, certainly, and somewhat begrudgingly
we are noticing our own dissatisfaction.
We have need, and our selves bear witness that
our need is none other than You.