The Swan
This clumsy living that moves lumbering as if in ropes through what is not done, reminds us of the awkward way the swan walks.
My God Is Dark and Silent
Yet, no matter how deeply I go down into myself, my God is dark, and like a webbing made of a hundred roots that drink in silence. I know that my trunk rose from his warmth, but that’s all, because my branches hardly move at all near the ground, and just wave a little in the wind.
Let This Darkness Be a Bell Tower
Let this darkness be a bell tower and you the bell. As you ring, what batters you becomes your strength.
