I touch God in my song as the hill touches the far-away sea with its waterfall. The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough. Let my love, like sunlight, surround you and yet give you illumined freedom. Love remains a secret even when spoken, for only a lover truly knows that he is loved. Emancipation from the bondage of the soil is no freedom for the tree. In love I pay my endless debt to thee for what thou art. Let thy love play upon my voice and rest on my silence. Let is pass through my heart into all my movements. Let thy love like stars shine in the darkness of my sleep and dawn in my awakening. Let it burn in the flame of my desires. And flow in all current of my own love. Let me carry thy love in my life as a harp does its music, and give it back to thee at last with my life. Every morning the world is created. Under the orange sticks of the sun the heaped ashes of the night turn into leaves again and fasten themselves to the high branches --- and the ponds appear like black cloth on which are painted islands of summer lilies. If it is your nature to be happy you will swim away along the soft trails for hours, your imagination alighting everywhere. And if your spirit carries within it the thorn that is heavier than lead --- if its all you can do to keep on trudging --- there is still somewhere deep within you a beast shouting that the earth is exactly what it wanted --- each pond with its blazing lilies is a prayer heard and answered lavishly, every morning, whether or not you have ever dared to be happy, whether or not you have ever dared to pray.
Posted on: Wed, 24 Sep 2014 00:02:35 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015