Her eyes were kindled from the lamps of Heaven.
Her voice reached through me, tender, sweet and low:
An angel's voice, a music of its own.
And in the center, great wings spread apart,
more than a thousand festive angels shone,
each one distinct in radiance, and in art.
I crave peace. Peace depends on a slowness. Peace depends onacceptance of other people's processes and perception of truth. Peace depends on reverence and awe for this incredible blue/green planet we have somehow lucked into. Peace depends on a faith that there really isSomething Larger going on here, and that rushing and anger areirrelevant to that larger process, what ever it, or It, may be. I amslowly beginning to live this peace, but in so many ways, I am a slow learner.