The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible.
~ Vladimir Nabokov
God speaks to each of us as he makes us,
then walks with us silently out of the night.
These are the words we dimly hear:
You, sent out beyond your recall,
Go to the limits of your longing.
Embody me.
Flare up like flame
And make big shadows I can move in.