Beneath the intricate network of noise
there's a still more persistent tapestry
woven of whispers, murmurs and chants
It's the heaving breath of the very earth
carrying along the prayer of all things:
trees, ants, stones, creeks and mountains alike
All giving silent thanks and remembrance
each moment, as a tug on a rosary bead
while we hurry past, heedless of the mysteries
And, yet, every secret wants to be told
every shy creature to approach and trust us
if we patiently listen, with all our senses.
The art of peace is medicine for a sick world. There is evil and disorder in the world because people have forgotten that all things emanate from one Source. Return to that Source and leave behind all self-centered thoughts, petty desires, and anger. Those who are possessed by nothing possess everything.