I weave your name on the loom of my mind
To clean and soften ten thousand threads
And to comb the twists and knots of my thoughts.
No more shall I weave a garment of pain.
For you have come to me, drawn by my weaving,
Ceaselessly weaving your name on the loom of my mind.
Every age has a need of "the contemplative life," and ours is no exception to the rule. The soul needs a chance for spreading its wings, for looking beyond itself, beyond the immediate environment, and for quiet inner growth.