In your waking dream, when you are hushed and listening to your deeper self, your thoughts, like snow-flakes, fall and flutter and garment all the sounds of your spaces with white silence. And what are waking dreams but clouds that bud and blossom on the sky-tree of your heart ? And what are your thoughts but the petals which the winds of your heart scatter upon the hills and its fields ? And even as you wait for peace until the formless within you takes form, so shall the cloud gather and drift until the Blessed Fingers shape its grey desire to little crystal suns and moons and stars.
Posted on: Fri, 14 Jun 2013 02:42:52 +0000
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