I wanted it. Desired it greatly. Yearned for its coming. But when it did come, I fought, resisted, ran, hid away. I said, "Go home!" I didn't know the fire of God could be more than a gentle glow or a cozy consolation. I didn't know it could come in as a blaze ... a wildfire uncontrolled, searing my soul, chasing my old ways, smoking them out. Only when I stopped running, gave up the chase, surrendered, did I know the fire's flaming as consolation and joy. Only then could I welcome the One whose fire I had long sought.
if each day falls
inside each night
there exists a well
where clarity is imprisoned.
we need to sit on the rim
of the well of darkness
and fish for fallen light
with patience.
I want the light
locked inside to awaken:
crystalline flower,
wake as I do:
eyelids raise the curtain
of endless earthen time
until deeply buried eyes
flash clear enough again
to see their own clarity.
If we were not so single-minded about keeping our lives moving, and could do nothing, perhaps a huge silence might interrupt the sadness of never understanding ourselves.
Earth, give me back your pure gifts, the towers of silence which rose from the solemnity of their roots. I want to go back to being what I have not been, and learn to go back from such deeps that amongst all naturala things I could live or not live; it does not matter to be one stone more, the dark stone, the pure stone which the river bears away.
All paths lead to the same goal: to convey to others what we are. And we must pass through solitude and difficulty, isolation and silence, in order to reach forth to the enchanted place where we can dance our clumsy dance and sing our sorrowful song -- but in this dance or in this song there are fulfilled the most ancient rites of our conscience in the awareness of being human and of believing in a common destiny.