Inwardness and true quietness appear to be but two aspects of the same thing -- of a "truly centered" life. In the innermost religion of life there is a perpetual calm; perturbations and excitements belong to the comparatively superficial part of our own nature. In cleaving to the Center we cannot but be still; to be inwardly still is to be aware of the Center.
Even if I don't see it again — nor ever feel it
I know it is — and that if once it hailed me
it ever does—
And so it is myself I want to turn in that direction
not as toward a place, but it was a tilting
within myself,
as one turns a mirror to flash the light to where
it isn't — I was blinded like that — and swam
in what shone at me
only able to endure it by being no one and so
specifically myself I thought I'd die
from being loved like that.