Beside a river, in a spell
Of utter silence, there am I.
Alone I sit within a cell:
The midnight hours are passing by ...
I gaze into the distance, staying
Focused on night's formlessness;
The heart is begging to be praying --
In holy calm, how effortless!
All problems seem so far from me;
The world seem foreign and unreal.
Up in the heavens, You I see;
Within my heart, deep peace I feel.
There is no art to wandering. If I have a destination, a plan -- and objective -- I've lost the ability to find serendipity... I search for the Holy Grail of particularity and miss the chalice freely offered, filled full and overwhelming.