Words come and go in waves. They lap at the waters edge of my mind, a tranquil pool disturbed at times by an unseen wind. This is my spot for respite. Only here can I be both master and student. The wind feels gentle on my face like a summer dusk and the fading glow of sunlight.
I must not put reality into little compartments. I have had the past tendency to package things up in boxes and store them in the attic of my awareness. I am now opening boxes like it's my birthday, and it just may be that every brand new day is, and the gift too.
The ears and eyes of my heart are open, filling with the God-sound and God-light.
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