Nothing I say can explain to you divine love. Yet all of creation cannot seem to stop talking about it.
Nothing I say can explain to you divine love. Yet all of creation cannot seem to stop talking about it.
Your hand opens and closes, opens and closes. If it were always a fist or always stretched open, you would be paralysed. Your deepest presence is in every small contracting and expanding, the two as beautifully balanced and coordinated as birds’ wings.
My Place is the placeless, my trace is the traceless; ‘I’ is neither body nor soul, for ‘I’ belong to the soul of the Beloved. I have put duality away, I have seen that the two worlds are one; One I seek, One I know, One I see, One I call.