Dwarfed by the sky at night These fearless mountains are nearly lost from sight Track the hill with a harvest moon Moving, shifting on across a winter sky
My thoughts drift away An Illusion of light Feel the rain in the air Where the thin mist is hiding, shrouded [I'm] there
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"Only those who obey a rhythm superior to their own are free," wrote Kazantzakis. The superior rhythm is the one made by God and whispered into us at the time that we were whispered into being. It is a rhythm based on the light and darkness of the day itself...a rhythm that supports all of our lives— prayer, rest, community and work. We are called to live lives that are shaped and nurtured and wrestled with until they become a prayer that is prayed without ceasing. To do that will require a rule of some sort, even if it is The Rule of Saint Whatever-Your-Name-Is.