There was nothing in the Virgin's soul
that belonged to the Virgin --
no word, no thought, no image, not intent.
She was a pure, transparent pool reflecting
God, only God.
She held Love's burnished day; she held Love's night
of planet-glow on shade inscrutable.
God was her sky and she who mirrored God
became Love's firmament.
When I so much as turn my thoughts toward her
my spirit is enisled in her repose.
And when I gaze into her selfless depths
an anguish in me grows
to hold such blueness and to hold such fire.
I pray to hollow out my earth and be
filled with these waters of transparency.
I think that one could die of this desire,
seeing oneself dry earth or stubborn sod.
Oh, to become a pure pool like the Virgin,
water that lost the semblances of water
and was a sky like God.
The object of leisure is work. The object of work is holiness ... meaning wholeness. Recreation is for the sake of work. Leisure time is for the sake of recreation in order that the labourer may the better return to work. Games are like sleep -- necessary for the health of body and mind -- a means to health, the health of the labourer, the one who prays, the contemplative. Leisure is secular, work is sacred. Holidays are the active life, the working life is the contemplative life.