I know, you never intended to be in this world.
But you're in it all the same.
So why not get started immediately.
I mean, belonging to it.
There is so much to admire, to weep over.
And to write music or poems about.
Bless the feet that take you to and fro.
Bless the eyes and the listening ears.
Bless the tongue, the marvel of taste.
Bless touching.
You could live a hundred years, it's happened.
Or not.
I am speaking from the fortunate platform
of many years,
none of which, I think, I ever wasted.
Do you need a prod?
Do you need a little darkness to get you going?
Let me be as urgent as a knife, then,
and remind you of Keats,
so single of purpose and thinking, for a while,
he had a lifetime.
And, from Mother Teresa:
God is the friend of silence. We need to find God
But we cannot find God in noise, in excitement.
See how nature, the trees, the flowers, the grass
Grow in deep silence ... the stars, the moon and the sun
Move in silence ...
The fruit of silence is prayer. The fruit of prayer
Is faith. The fruit of faith is love.
The fruit of love is service ...
(The fruit of service is peace.)