… a fire was lit in my heart. My rational doubts and hesitations went up in smoke. My tepid faith, which had become that of the indifferent believer, was rekindled.
I was in front of the flaming bush. I wanted to take off my shoes. It was sacred ground. God was this sacred ground. God was within the entire creation. The entire creation was sacred ground.
The canary began to sing again. The sun had struck it, and its throat and tiny breast had filled with son. Francis gazed at it for a long time, not speaking, his eyes dimmed with tears.
"The canary is like our soul. It sees bars around it, but instead of despairing it sings, and see: one day its song shall break the bars."