This Realm of Love

Roger Butts

Blessed are those who march in the streets,
Seeking a better way for all God’s people.

Blessed is the single mother, on the bus,
Seeking a better way for her kids, above all.

Blessed is the monk, in his silent cell,
Praying and praying and praying some more.

Blessed are the peacemakers,
Banging guns into garden tools.

Blessed is the man behind the counter
At the neighborhood 7–11, who still says “hey.”

Blessed is the artist, and the poet, and the shrink,
For they see into the center of things.

Blessed is the contemplative and the activist,
For nothing separates them, one from the other.

Blessed is the little white church down the way,
I’ve heard them singing off-key and loving on-point.

Blessed are my dog and your cat and the fish in the fishbowl,
They love with an unconditional zeal.

Blessed are those who get up in the morning,
Seeking beauty in a bruised old world.

Blessed are the dreamers and the do-ers,
Where would we be without them?

Blessed are you and blessed am I,
Living in the unity of all things,
In this realm of love,
Whether we know it or not.