Music ingathers all, yet takes one only
into its secret when the chimes begin.
When that great rain of sound comes down,
the lonely of spirit is elect and enters in.
One evening shines with bells; alone, apart we listen, awed,
to the antiphonal pealing of our hearts.
Music by right is for the solitaries
whom a long silence trains to the profound.
The bells are ours; we come at the first airy
rumor to drench our deserts with their sound.
Yet anyone who listens may become
hermit or anchorite under the shower
when the great chimes -- tree shakes its leaves of light.
Peace is love resting in order to be renewed. The renewal takes place in the inner silence. In the desert we see things as they are. We are face to face with reality. The silence we observe externally does then become also the inner silence when the miracles of grace take place. Here we are stripped of the outward garments hiding our true selves. Here we can embrace the awfulness of our human condition and the awesomeness of the offered gift of grace. We are in touch at last with our reality.