To be able to love material things, to clothe them with tender grace, and yet not be attached to them, this is a great service. Providence expects that we should make this world our own, and not lie in it as though it were a rented tenement. We can only make it our own through some service, and that service is to lend it love and beauty from our soul. Your own experience shows you the difference between the beautiful, the tender, the hospitable, and the mechanically neat and monotonously useful. Gross utility kills beauty. We now have all over the world huge productions of things, huge organizations, huge administrations of empire–all obstructing the path of life. Civilization is waiting for a great consummation, for an expression of its soul in beauty. This must be your contribution to the world.
I traveled light years
Through cosmic storms and dust,
Only to find you sleeping
on your simple cot.
Stepping back,
I folded,
Quietly,
My gray ragged wings.
I could see why he chose you,
The glow of your pure breath...
I didn’t mean to frighten you,
Just wanted to keep looking...
I wanted to breathe in your innocent air,
Look at your soft,
Surrendered hands...
Another second ...
Before I told you the news.