January 29, 2011

You Come and Go

You come and go. The doors swing closed
ever more gently, almost without a shudder.
Of all who move through the quiet houses,
you are the quietest.

We become so accustomed to you,
we no longer look up
when your shadow falls over the book we are reading
and makes it glow.

From The Book of Hours I, 45


  1. This presence, to which we become accustomed, needs to be attended to, in silence.

    But also, over time, the presence becomes our own, us. We get better at the language of the spirit, and we begin to think in that language of the heart and soul. We acquire it, as we acquire new flesh and bone, created from the fuel we consume.

  2. This excerpt can be interpreted in several different ways, I suppose. Is this presence our inner selves, our deeper consciousness, our muse, perhaps God? Whatever it is, the significance for me is that adds a glow to the book we are reading; it supports and ratifies our search from meaning.


"Everything is blooming most recklessly; if it were voices instead of colors, there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night."

~ Rainer Maria Rilke

Go ahead, bloom recklessly!