Fold your wings, my soul, those wings you had spread wide to soar to the terrestrial peaks where light is most ardent: it is for you to simply waith the descent of the Fire — supposing it to be willing to take possession of you.
Arriving daffodils will make no sound, will blow no trumpets -- only the earthworm close to its root, burrowing underground, will hear the upsurge, feel the green stems yearn.
Beauty returns to Earth, devoid of noise, devoid of clamor. Now it lifts its head epitome of stillness and of poise and in unbroken silence all is said.
~ Fanny De Groot Hastings, thanks to Sally Hopkins
