In the point of rest at the center of our being, we encounter a world where all things are at rest in the same way. Then a tree becomes a mystery, a cloud a revelation, each [person] a cosmos of whose riches we can only catch glimpses. The life of simplicity is simple, but it opens to us a book in which we never get beyond the first syllable.
O Mystery, You are life. I feel you all around
You are the fire in my heart, You are the holy sound.
You are all of life. It is to You I sing.
Grant that I may feel You, always in every thing.
