Ah, silent wordless love,
Sweet smiling melancholy,
Solitary, symphonic,
Saying nothing, answering nothing.
All the while your tireless arms
Nurse my trembling life,
Caress the gleaming cosmos,
Bringing close the happy heart of God.
Even at age 72, I sometimes wake in the night frightened. It happened earlier tonight, around 2am. It’s happened thousands of times, going way back to when I was a little kid. Yet it often still shocks and shakes me, as if it were the first time. For a while I just lie here scared and bewildered, with no idea what to do or how to look after myself. But sooner or later, I remember. I put on some gentle music, reach for my beloved bedside notebook, sit very still and listen. Then … I write.
