The canyon bleeds, then deepens and darkens ... A sliver of white moon in the east. Thin Light spills into the gorge and the river sings an ancient song. At the edge of shadow, night: dark stone, pine scent, water, cascading Light.
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Our awareness of God is a syntax or the silence in which our souls mingle with the divine, in which the ineffable in us communes with the ineffable beyond us. It is the afterglow of years in which soul and sky are silent together, the outgrowth of accumulated certainty of the abundant, never-ending presence of the divine. All we need to do is to let the insight be and to listen to the soul's recessed certainty of its being a parenthesis in the immense script of God's eternal speech.