There is a burning in our land: sidewalks sizzle, soils crack, grasses brown, shrubs wilt, flowers droop, leaves crisp, crops wither, forests flame. Sprinkler hoses and soaker hoses and irrigation systems and firemen trickle droplets upon the earth, still parched to its core.

Such is the metaphor for the burning of spirit: racial frenzy, pre-election hype, police killings, Sharia Law, funny money, IT insanity, strategic cameras, global warmongering. Fine wines, choice liqueurs, and Scotch loosen tongues and evoke more greed and manipulation around conference tables and the Internet.

Our thirsting continues, unabated.

From who or from what can our thirst be appeased? Our psyches set loose from desiccation and certain death?

From this source, only, and upon our knees: “…and from His side flowed blood and water.” (John 19:34)