Let rain be rain.
Let wind be wind.
Let the small stone
be the small stone.
May the bird
rest on its branch,
the beetle in its burrow.
May the pine tree
lay down its needles.
The rockrose, its petals.
It's early. Or it's late.
The answers
to our questions
lie hidden
in acorn, oyster, the seagull's
speckled egg.
We've come this far, already.
Why not let breath
be breath. Salt be salt.
How faithful the tide
that has carried us—
that carries us now—
out to sea
and back.
Nothing was changed, yet everything was changed. Compared to this, she felt as if she had been sleepwalking all of her life. "God is here."
I pierce the universe.
God pierces me.
I do not think; I am thought.
I do not know; I am known.
Every movement, every breath was poetry. She had passed through her dark night of the soul, and understood now how the light in one's heart – the light of faith – could shine brighter than the midday sun.