Nights passing and crickets

Are the backdrop, to the stars

Whose light is quite bright 

Against an open door, the wind blows‎

Moist skin  feels the welcome I am open to  receive

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I stay aware.

And aware brings stories that pass around themselves, distraction to this higher depth of silence which is full with it all. ... so I write from my heart and say you stories mean nothing to where I breathe into myself, where there are no stories, there is love--and it's soft and it's sensual and it's the air, and stars, wind, night sky- it's enlightened in the sunrise, it's grafted onto christ.

‎In the old testament'‎

Solomon prayer for knowledge of god and not for the wealth of the world... for Solomon knew gods presence and the knowledge to continue to hold a heart filled with god , is wealth indeed... ‎

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And in the Bahagava Gita‎, Krishna who appears to arjuna,shares with arjuna who he is, arjuna humbles to the knowledge of such yet forgets, maybe he too can't hold any of all of god. ...

And then there is grace, of living so and only as maidservant, that I sing to be touched by its grace, it's mercy, 

AESCHYLUS ‎ says it in a poem‎ 

 (Agamemnon 179-183):

 “And even in our sleep [d' ény' Ïpnou] painthat cannot forget [mnhsipÆmvn pÒnow], falls drop by drop [stãzei] upon the heart [prÚ kard€aw], and in our own despite [s°lma semnÚn ≤m°nvn], against our will [ka‹ par' êkontaw], comes wisdom to us [∑lye svfrone›n] by the awful grace of God [daimÒnvn d° pou xãriw b€aiow].”[1]‎

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Sent from my BlackBerry 10 smartphone.