I walked by the shore and the churning sea was a presence as incomprehensible as God to me.
I had often thought of love as the impossible longing to provide a shelter within our hearts
for those other bewildered sailors , a face in the darkness, a beacon of light through the fog of life.
HUmanity was our gift to each other , an unfathomable yes drawn from the wells of our very life.


Yes ,Through our love we pressed the implacable face of humanity into the stones of the earth and time.
and we drew the lines of our countenace perpetually in the sand even as the waves bore them away.

To live is to answer death in our own language, to speak in our own voice, to have courage to hold fast
to the song of our own voices. In living, we place trust in the voices of our own souls in intercourse with each other.
In love, we recognise what we ourselves are, in this recognition we redeem ourselves before the stars and the waves
and the sky.

yet, as i walked , i saw that
The ocean is its own unity , a resounding motion adored by every fragment of sand, an impossible liquid ideal.How
sad to be an angelic piece of sand, forever seperate from its great love, The sea!

And yet beyond all this,
Is it not our own very human madness to feel compassion for every bounded thing, be it a grain of sand?


I had often thought this way as i looked into the eyes of animals - is not the animal in a prison of its own mute awareness? Is it not
an unbearable sadness to be animal, sealed in the vault of life like an ant in amber?
What an unbearable sadness that must be, to dream restlessly from birth to death and never once
awaken from the dream.