The canyon bleeds, then deepens
and darkens ...
A sliver of white moon in the east.
Thin Light spills into the gorge
and the river sings an ancient song.
At the edge of shadow, night:
dark stone, pine scent, water,
cascading Light.
Life in the dimension of Spirit is a mystery rooted in the joy of being. The wonderful beauty of prayer is that the opening of our heart is as natural as the opening of a flower. To let a flower open and bloom it is only necessary to let it be. So if we simply are, if we become and remain still and silent, our heart cannot but be open; the Spirit cannot but pour through into our whole being. It is this that we have been created for.