Those that truly love

Captain Corelli's MandolinLouis de Bernieres

Love is a temporary madness,
it erupts like volcanoes and then subsides.
And when it subsides you have to make a decision.
You have to work out whether your roots have so entwined together
that it is inconceivable that you should ever part.
Because this is what love is.
Love is not breathlessness,
it is not excitement,
it is not the promulgation of eternal passion.
That is just being "in love" which any fool can do.
Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away,
and this is both an art and a fortunate accident.
Those that truly love, have roots that grow towards each other underground,
and when all the pretty blossom have fallen from their branches,
they find that they are one tree and not two.

Snow Geese at Night

Google Image from Audubon 

I can hear them

 I can’t see them

Snow geese that fly at night

They seem infinite in their numbers

Every night the past month I heard them call

This time when they are elsewhere

I will remember selfless calls

Their perfect V’s

Unseen to those who fly

I will remember

The perfection of their V

Silhouetted above the street lights

Generated by the air that we can not see

Explained by the geese that can only feel

When they are in the right place

Singing with the ecstasy

Of remembering

Their home

           Let

                 Me

                     Live

                           The

                     Way

               They

           Fly

By John Miller  

http://john-millar.blogspot.co.uk/2012/11/snow-geese-at-night.html 

We will remember them

We will remember them.

Like a feather

When you pray lay aside thoughts

that peck at the body and dive after souls

fears that give birth to needs

concerns that lay ambush to the future

mistakes that make poison of the past

 

 

When you pray lay aside thoughts

Of where you are and what you are doing

of your struggle to walk the Chosen Path

even your hopes to leave behind

a few final steps in the sand

 

 

Then pull from under you

what little ground you stand on

and fall

like a feather

into the hand of God

Rest there 

so lightly 

so very very lightly

that when you think about it

you will feel no longer where you end

and God begins.

 

 

 Centering Prayer Magazine from Snowmass Benedictine Monastery