I let the water run dry
in the vase on my desk
knowing the day was near
to depart from here–
where stillness lives
in snowfall and stained glass,
in mosaics and frames–
whether window or art
or the inward gaze, all
feels enfolded, held
in this quiet spirit:
the presence of love–
known not as a single
concrete image or certain
invariable assertions
regarding who belongs
and who doesn’t, but as
mystery: divine invitation.
Oh Opener of every door
that leads to beauty,
love, and one another,
guide us to our true
home in You, where
communion and celebration,
solitude and contemplation
are harbingers of hope
for the weary ones who
toil without end.
The Unspeaking Center 