I cried to God,
I beat upon the door
Until my knuckles bled;
God gave me no answer, gave no sign.
"There is no God," I sad.
I stopped my clamor
And lay spent,
A channel at ebb tide,
And slowly in the silence
The door swung wide.
Unless there is a still center
in the middle of the storm ...
Unless a person amidst of all their activities
preserves a secret room in their heart
where they stand alone before God ...
Unless we do this,
we will lose all sense of spiritual direction
and be torn to pieces.