Thursday, March 19, 2015

I drove my daughter to school today, and then turned toward home. The sun was just coming up over the mountains, surrounded by clouds. Oh my Light, a sign of my Beloved appearing!

I wish I could have captured with a camera, the cloud of glory rising, how I spied it again, gleaming between the splitting branches of a birch tree. It was the sun, and it was more than the sun.

And yet this was a sight which could not be caught by any gaze except that of the heart, a flower pressed between the pages of an eternal book, waiting eagerly for such a ray of morning. "White Aster! I am here!"

How long we have kept our secrets--and how much longer we shall keep them, only the sunset can guess.

The mountains held up the sky like pillars, releasing plumes of pebbles, streams and silt as far as my girlish eyes could follow, and w...

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