In his ‘Divine Comedy’ Dante embarked on canonizing the poets of his day, separating them into bad and good by one discerning criteria – how responsible were their words?
There is much which flows in, through, and out of our porous selves, making these attempts at succinctly crafted words more than just a distillation or a summary, but a test whether they can indeed leave some good mark. For if their ‘usefulness’ is what ultimately claims authority, then only time can be that judge.
“We are God’s workmanship”, as Paul writes in his letter to the Ephesians. The Greek word for ‘workmanship’ is ‘poema’, where we get our root word ‘Poem’ from, which means we are, as sapient sapiens, God’s very own ‘poetry in motion’.
‘HIS’ is a collection of some favourite Biblical passages and books in rhyme, while ‘MINE’ is a collection of my own raw treasures as I go digging into this soul – His mine.
It’s just poetry. It can’t hurt.
Much.
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