When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.

And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

Verily all things move within your being in constant half embrace, the desired and the dreaded, the repugnant and the cherished, the pursued and that which you would escape.

A seeker of silences am I, and what treasure have I found in silences that I may dispense with confidence?