I started to compose the opening of "Fos" (light) and I had the idea of a string trio playing in the distance which would represent the soul yearning for God. The choir represented God in uncreated energies. This yearning choir is played by the string trio which is cut off by the joy/sorrow chord by the choir singing the word "Fos," light, light, light, light, light -- until it becomes an expanded light separated from all yet united to all, and moving straight into the second section, Doxa: symbolizing the glory of that Light filling everything with light.
How surely gravity's law,
strong as an ocean current,
takes hold of the smallest thing
and pulls it toward the heart of the world.
Each thing—
each stone, blossom, child —
is held in place.
Only we, in our arrogance,
push out beyond what we each belong to
for some empty freedom.
If we surrendered
to earth's intelligence
we could rise up rooted, like trees.
Instead we entangle ourselves
in knots of our own making
and struggle, lonely and confused.
So like children, we begin again
to learn from the things,
because they are in God's heart;
they have never left him.
This is what the things can teach us:
to fall,
patiently to trust our heaviness.
Even a bird has to do that
before he can fly.