When you lift your head high,
Should it not be to your father,
With soul and spirit up high,
To his glory and his majesty,
Should you not be saying,
Thank you for life Abba father?
Hailing high his majesty,
The one who sustains your existence,
Do not your head ascend and descend,
To empty what a glass can hold,
Yes, true he blessed in Canaan the wine,
But weddings do not by day occur.
We sometimes give
Distorted meanings,
To what our minds
Cannot comprehend,
And to fill our emptiness,
We make up our own.
Yes, true into wine,
Real water he turned,
On an occasion special,
Not so that we will ride high,
Our mind, our heads into the sky,
Defying our body, his temple.
Everything, to which he birthed,
Is set with its own fruitfulness,
That ripens in time and in season,
Anything when falls in season,
The best it does itself present,
And so it is with grapes, and wine.
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