This uncontainable night

Quiet friend who has come so far,
feel how your breathing makes more space around you.
Let this darkness be a bell tower
and you the bell. As you ring,

what batters you becomes your strength.
Move back and forth into the change...

In this uncontainable night,
be the mystery at the crossroads of your senses,
the meaning discovered there.

And if the world has ceased to hear you,
say to the silent Earth: I flow.
To the rushing water, speak: I am.

The most visible joy

The most visible joy
can only reveal itself to us
when we've transformed it, within.

The only courage that is demanded of us

At the bottom the only courage that is demanded of us is to have courage for the most strange, the most singular, and the most inexplicable that we may encounter. That humankind has in this sense been cowardly, has done life endless harm; the whole so-called "spirit-world," death, all those things that are so akin to us, have by daily parrying been so crowded out of life that the senses with which we could have grasped them are atrophied. To say nothing of God.

Now do heart work

Work of sight is done.
Now do heart work
on the pictures within you.

But I am listening

You, neighbor God, when I disturb with heavy raps
your quiet during a lonely night,
it is because I rarely hear You breathe,
though know: You're in your room alone.
And while in need, there's no one there to bring
your groping hand a drink. But I
am listening. Just give me a sign.
I am close by.

A paradox

A paradox: To those who really love, the more they give, the more they possess.

The necessary thing

The necessary thing is great, inner solitude.
What goes on inwardly is worthy of your love.

My God is dark

No matter how deeply I go down
into myself,
My God is dark, and like a webbing
made of a hundred roots
that drink in silence.

Love is this

Love is this: that two solitudes border, protect, and salute one another.

There is but one solitude

There is but one solitude, and that is great, and not easy to bear, and to almost everybody come hours when they would gladly exchange it for any sort of intercourse, however banal and cheap, for the semblance of some slight accord with the first comer ... But perhaps those are the very hours when solitude grows; for its growing is painful ... But that must not mislead you. The necessary thing is after all but this: solitude, great inner solitude. Going-into-oneself and for hours meeting no one -- this one must be able to attain. To be solitary, the way one was solitary as a child ... Think of the world you carry within you ... What goes on in your innermost being is worthy of your whole love ...

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