The time of busyness does not with me differ from the time of prayer, and in the noise and clatter of my kitchen, while serving persons are at the same time calling for different things, I possess God in as great tranquility as if I were upon my knees in prayer.
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.