Tuesday, July 26, 2011

No. 151

There is a peculiarly interesting strain of singers for whom learning to sing means learning to be.  Watch out for them, for they sing with the same power that moves mountains and births children, razing forests and caressing butterflies in the wind. When their eyes meet it is with the fire of a refiner Who has whittled them down with music. No words are needed--and paradoxically, no songs.  Silence holds all possibilities, and It is enough.  Love does Her work with them and all they do in answer is kneel.  How strange this life, and how real the pull to something more, the call to deeper truth!

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