I surround myself with silence. The silence is within me, permeates my house, reaches beyond the surfaces of the outer walls and into the bordering woods. It is one silence, continuous from within me, outward in all directions: above, beneath, forward, rearward, sideward. In the silence I listen, I watch, I sense, I attend, I observe. I require this silence. I search it out. The finely drawn treble song of a white-throated sparrow is part of it. Invasions of it by the noise of engines are a torment to me. This is my solitude.
I think over again my small adventures
my fears
those small ones that seemed so big
For all the vital things
I had to get and to reach
And yet there is only one great thing
the only thing
To live to see the great day that dawns
and the light that fills the world.
my fears
those small ones that seemed so big
For all the vital things
I had to get and to reach
And yet there is only one great thing
the only thing
To live to see the great day that dawns
and the light that fills the world.