There is a certain relevance to life that is hard to hear in the business of the day. The past and future come pounding on my brain. It is in the time I spend alone with God that I tune my soul to the music of the dance. I can begin to hear the song in the most wondrous places, in the most unexpected circumstances. I am called to the rhythm and even if no one else has ears, I enter in the song.
Nature is never spent; There lives the dearest freshness in deep down things; And though the last lights off the black West went Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs . . . Because the Holy Ghost over the bent world broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.
