There is a way to live that makes the angels cry out
in rapture. There is
a way to live that makes
each star a cell.
Come stand with me here, it is
cold I know, and silent,
nothing is happening.
The next breath, and the next, is the new life.
Love depends upon the capacity to reach beneath the surface of persons, to feel and touch the seed of life that is hidden there. And love becomes a power when it is capable of evoking that seed and drawing it forth from its hiding place.
~ from THE SYMBOLIC AND THE REAL by Ira Progoff