Solitude gives birth to beauty
Solitude gives birth to the original in us, to beauty unfamiliar and perilous — to poetry.
In downtown Little Rock late one day, a monk saw a bag lady with her full cart staring at the sky.
She ignored his questions, continuing to study the sunset. He looked and saw the bright reds and oranges set against the deep blue sky and white clouds. It was a stunning display of color and contrast.
After a time, she patted his arm and he looked into her sparkling eyes, seeing the fresh tears on her dirty cheeks and the toothless smile.
"God," she whispered, "is just TOO good to me!"