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What is aprehended by the eye is holy.
What the hands can touch, holy.
What the lips can taste, holy.

What is there in this world but love? When I hear the laughter of my daughter I am showered with blessings. When I move my body my joints and muscles sing songs of love to my soul and to my body. When I wake in the dark love is all around me. I take it in with each breath and send it out to all the universe with each exhalation. When I weep my tears are as jewels of joy, their bitterness awakens my heart to sing in its agony to the Lord my God, to the engine that turns all things, to the wheel of life that lifts me to the heavens and then crushes me into the earth, breaking my bones and spilling my blood like wine into the dirt.

I think that something is at work.

I think that something is at work.

TURNING and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

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I am afraid, not of what I am losing, but of not being brave enough to continue….

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