The trees come up to my window like the yearning voice of the dumb earth.
His own mornings are new surprises to God.
Life finds its wealth by the claims of the world, and its worth
by the claims of love.
The dry river-bed finds no thanks for its past.
The bird wishes it were a cloud.
The cloud wishes it were a bird.
The waterfall sing, “I find my song, when I find my freedom.”
I cannot tell why this heart languishes in silence.
It is for small needs it never asks, or knows or remembers.
Woman, when you move about in your household service your limbs sing
like a hill stream among its pebbles.
The sun goes to cross the Western sea, leaving its last salutation
to the East.
Do not blame your food because you have no appetite.
The trees, like the longings of the earth, stand atiptoe to peep
at the heaven.
You smiled and talked to me of nothing and I felt that for this
I had been waiting long.
The fish in the water is silent, the animal on the earth is noisy,
the bird in the air is singing.
But Man has in him the silence of the sea, the noise of the earth and
the music of the air.
The world rushes on over the strings of the lingering heart making
the music of sadness.
He has made his weapons his gods.
When his weapons win he is defeated himself.
God finds himself by creating.
Shadow, with her veil drawn, follows Light in secret meekness,
with her silent steps of love.
The stars are not afraid to appear like fireflies.
I thank thee that I am none of the wheels of power but I am one with
the living creatures that are crushed by it.
The mind, sharp but not broad, sticks at every point but does not move.
You idol is shattered in the dust to prove that God’s dust is greater than your idol.
Man does not reveal himself in his history, he struggles up through it.
While the glass lamp rebukes the earthen for calling it cousin the
moon rises, and the glass lamp, with a bland smile, calls her,
—My dear, dear sister.
Like the meeting of the seagulls and the waves we meet and come near.
The seagulls fly off, the waves roll away and we depart.
My day is done, and I am like a boat drawn on the beach, listening to
the dance-music of the tide in the evening.
Life is given to us, we earn it by giving it.
We come nearest to the great when we are great in humility.
The sparrow is sorry for the peacock at the burden of its tail.
Never be afraid of the moments–thus sings the voice of the everlasting.
The hurricane seeks the shortest road by the no-road, and suddenly ends
its search in the Nowhere.