The Still Heart of the Flame
I asked the night where God was hiding,
and the night replied: in the wound that shines.
So I walked there, barefoot,
until silence became my prayer.
I have poured myself into a thousand souls—
each sorrow another chalice,
each face a sudden Bethlehem.
I do not call it sacrifice;
It is only the way Love breathes.
The lilies bloom in ashes,
the sparrows sing from the snow.
And I, unworthy servant of hidden joy,
forget my name among their wings.
The soul that pities itself
builds a wall against the dawn;
but the soul that burns without measure
becomes the dawn itself.
O Light within all lights,
let me be your whisper
in the hearts that cannot yet hear.
And when I vanish,
let the flame remain.
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