Divine Mother’s touch
Love in love with love keeps no score,
etching bliss burns in weary heart
and as God’s grace does so in-pour,
scent of lilacs sees fears depart.
Although we have drifted afar,
love in love with love keeps no score,
on spine’s thirty three stringed guitar,
playing music that makes folklore.
In the boat God Himself does oar,
our soul ascends, though we slumber;
love in love with love keeps no score,
yet we sigh grazed by bliss thunder.
Though we’ve sinned, misty eyes cajole
God to enter through our heart’s door,
that we may feel joyous and whole.
Love in love with love, keeps no score.
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