The Beatitudes
of Silence. Perhaps to
wonder is enough - not to The watching
eye - and offer love. To hear Could there
not be abroad some other law If I look
up into the thoughtless blue Where angels
are as common as they're clear
Know - just be. To see would be sufficient
For the hour - if flowers were to choose
The dove without another thought would surely
Be a sacrament revealed - a mute idea.
Where instinct - or some such - could just revere
And open wide perception's sacred door.
And think no more of that vast firmament:
Will I belong to light's unwritten news
To children - and the holy - and the poor?
