The soul of each one of us has its destination, and that is the Divine Heart. What is true of each of us is true of all the world. Walt Whitman in his strong, urgent way cries: "One thought ever at the fore, that in the Divine Ship, the world breasting time and space, all peoples of the globe together sail, sail the same voyage, are bound to the same destination." Some such thought as this is surely necessary for the bare subsistence of a soul, for our souls cannot live without the sense of destination.
and barefoot in the frosty grass, hearing,
again, the earth's great, sonorous moan that says
you are the air of the now and gone, that says
all you love will turn to dust,
and will meet you there, do not
raise your fist. Do not raise
your small voice against it. And do not
take cover. Instead, curl your toes
into the grass, watch the cloud
ascending from your lips. Walk
through the garden's dormant splendor.
Say only, thank you.
Thank you.