proud nowhere of earth’s most prodigious night blossoms a newborn babe:around him,eyes - gifted with every keener appetite than mere unmiracle can quite appease - humbly in their imagined bodies kneel (over time space doom dream while floats the whole perhaps less mystery of paradise)
mind without soul may blast some universe to might have been,and stop ten thousand stars but not one heartbeat of this child;nor shall even prevail a million questionings against the silence of his mother’s smile
- whose only secret all creation sings
E. E. Cummings 1894-1962
Meanwhile, someplace in the world, somebody is making love and another a poem.
God speaks to each of us as he makes us, then walks with us silently out of the night.
Give yourself permission to rest and receive lullabies for your heart.
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