One dark night
fired by love's urgent longing
ah, the sheer grace --
I went out unseen,
my house being now all stilled
... with no other light or guide
than the one that burned in my heart.
This guided me
more surely than the light of noon
to where You waited for me
You whom I knew so well.
I am to LISTEN. I am finding it a hard discipline: Listen to every word that is not said. Listen for silences. I have become insensitive to the power of words because I hear and see too many of them. I don't say to myself, "don't listen to words." I am already a past-master of that. I say, "listen to the silence." And I discover this: because silence seems empty of content I cannot place myself in relation to it, and therefore, I cannot place myself outside it. It is a world I enter, not a world I observe. Silent people bear this out: they seem to carry a world with them, while the unsilent always seem to be scurrying in search of one.