The stripping of pettiness from life in those early days of the war, the sense of unity and mutual help among all sorts and conditions of people, was a thing no one who was in England at that time could ever forget. There was an atmosphere of forgiveness everywhere, that most rare of human qualities...such moments reveal the beauty hidden in the most unlikely persons and affirm the truth, "what a piece of work is man, is woman!"
It finds no companionship anywhere
And no wish to find any.
My sole desire is You,
And You are always absent.
Can one love absence so intensely
That even your presence
Seems like an intrusion?
I move around in aimless circles.
Rituals and sacred symbols,
Once treasured symbols of relating to You
Are meaningless to me now.
They communicate nothing of You,
Who are everything to me
But for whom and from whom I feel no love,
Nor hope of fulfillment.
I am as one turned inside out,
And there is nothing there — not You, not me.
If this is union, there is neither two in One,
Nor One without another.
I long to relate to everyone,
Yet lack the capacity to relate to anyone.
There is only your boundless presence,
That treats me like a thing without a heart,
Except perhaps a broken heart.
For the God I thought I knew
No longer exists