If to anyone the tumult of the flesh grew silent,
silent the images of earth and sea and air;
and if the heavens grew silent,
and the very soul grew silent to herself;
if all dreams and images grew silent,
and every tongue and every symbol --
everything that passes away ...
and in their silence You spoke to us,
not by them, but You yourself;
so that we should hear Your Word,
not by any tongue of the flesh,
not in the voices of an angel,
not in the sound of thunder,
nor in the darkness of a parable --
but that we should hear You ...
should hear You and not them.
I know not how others see me, but to myself I seem a small child playing on a beach, delighted at the discovery of a shiny stone or shell, while an entire ocean of Truth lay undiscovered before my eyes.
I seem to have been only like a child playing on the
seashore, and diverting myself in now and then finding
a smoother pebble or a prettier shell than ordinary,
whilst the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered
before me.
