From the forest branches fading
birdsong offered
Self-sacrifice to a huge silence.
Dark formlessness settled over all
diversity
Of land and water.As shadows, as particles,
my body
Fused with endless night.I came to rest
At the altar of the stars.Alone, amazed,
I stared
Upwards with hands clasped and said,
"Sun, you have removed
Your rays: show now your loveliest,
kindlier form
That I may see the Person who dwells in
me as in you."
Creative work, like love, is not an exclusive gift bestowed on only a chosen few. A few now possess sanctity and moral vision, heroism and wisdom, genius and talent. But all that is merely activation of the potential dormant within every soul. A sea of love, an unexhaustible wellspring of creativity, bubbles behind the consciousness of each one of us. . . . All creative work that is done in its own name and for its own sake is divine in nature. Through it, people elevate themselves and fill their own hearts and the hearts of those around them with God.