Chestnut tresses and a great poem...

So, I looked in the mirror today and thought to myself: time for a trim. The top has gone all luscious, and when I can describe my hair as "luscious", it needs to be cut. Alas, it was not to be. I have just received a directive from the stage manager for the opera (and by extension from the director... the school of music... the board of trustees... the universal church... and God Himself) not to cut my hair until the show closes. That's two months! But when the Almighty tells you not to cut your hair, you listen. That's what the Biblical tale of Samson was all about. The Scriptures (TM): written for our day.

And now, a lovely poem by a Trappist monk that bears a few readings:

Lo! There he hangs
Ashened Figure
pinioned against the wood.
God grant that I might Love Him
Even as I should.

I draw a little closer
To share this Love Divine
And hear him softly murmur
"Ah, foolish Child of Mine,

If now I should embrace you
My hands would stain thee red,
And if I leaned to whisper
The thorns would pierce your head."

'Twas then I learned in meekness
That Love demands a price:
'Twas then I knew that sorrow
Is but the kiss of Christ.