Fold your wings, my soul,
those wings you had spread wide
to soar to the terrestrial peaks
where the light is most ardent:
it is for you simply to wait
the descent of the Fire --
supposing it to be willing
to take possession of you.
"You don't have to prove anything," my mother said. "Just be ready for what God sends."
I listened and put my hand out in the sun again. It was easy.