From the place where we are right
Flowers will never grow
In the spring.
The place where we are right
Is hard and trampled
Like a yard.
But doubts and loves
Dig up the world
Like a mole, a plow.
And a whisper will be heard in the place
Where the ruined
House once stood.
There is no limit to our capacity love. We can never be satisfied by loving just one person here and another there. Our need is to love completely, universally, without reservations — in other words, to become love itself. It can take our breath away to glimpse the vastness of such love.