Life is love: love overflowing, that has no limits and that gives itself freely; love that yields mercifully to every need; love that heals the sick and rouses to life what was dead; love that protects, defends, nourishes, teaches, and forms; love that is afflicted with the afflicted and glad with those in joy; that is ready at the service of each one in order to fulfill the plan of the Beloved, in a word: the love of the divine Heart.
Henry dropped to his knees, his bare toes finding the damp soil underneath the pine needles and leaves. He remained in that position for a quarter hour, unmoving, breathing slowly and deeply, watching the sky. Listening. The silent edge of dusk spread across the hillside. A luminous dark blue and purple void appeared to welcome the first star. And Henry, with loving respect for things he did not know, for what Cicero had called the unseen force that guides the body and guides the world, yielded to that unknown and unknowable force. He would rest in this pool of unknowing for as long a time as he was granted.