I grew up in this forest and I knew These giant trees when they were nothing more than Than slender saplings swaying in the wind; Sought solitude, delighted in the lore Of nature, who became my teacher first; Walked down trails where sun and shadow meet, Through silence softly tucked about the days; Traced the twists and turns of every creek. Stepping lightly through the after-glow, Amid the falling flakes of silver white, Belonging to the moment and the mood, Another little creature of the night, With quickened breath, ears attuned, who stood ... Sensing God within this winter wood!
In beauty there is God, and in beautiful things there is the refinement and cultivation of consciousness. Creative people live in the world of beauty; for, beauty speaks to the heart and silences the mind.