Prayer Is The Song Of

For The Sight Of The Angry Weather Saddens My Soul And The Sight Of The Town, Sitting Like A Bereaved Mother Beneath Layers Of Ice, Oppresses My Heart.

And Is Not The Lute That Soothes Your Spirit The Very Wood That Was Hollowed With Knives?

And What Word Is Knowledge But A Shadow Of Wordless Knowledge?

Who Among You Does Not Feel That His Power To Love Is Boundless? And Yet Who Does Not Feel That Very Love, Though Boundless, Encompassed Within The Center Of His Being, And Moving Not From Love Thought To Love Thought, Nor From Love Deeds To Other Love Deeds?

Give Your Hearts, But Not Into Each Other's Keeping, For Only The Hand Of God Can Contain Your Hearts.