Only my footsteps in the snow,
Only the glow of my fire,
Only a choir of wind to sing the benediction.
But I feast on memories
In a holy place.
It has been so long since I have heard my own voice
It startles me
When I say the grace.
May all things lost, apart, alone
Find some small shelter of their own.
Creative work, like love, is not an exclusive gift bestowed on only a chosen few...A sea of love, an inexhaustible wellspring of creativity, bubbles behind the consciousness of each one of us. All creative work, that which is life-giving, that is done in its own name and for its own sake is divine in nature. Through it, people elevate themselves and fill their own hearts and the hearts of those around them
with Love.