From an inky sort of blackness
comes a rainbow's sacred sound
where eyes beaming as portals
well their wisdom from the ground
Untold stories hiding endings
that we aren't yet meant to know
walled by egos (not by bridges)
mute our movement, dam our flow
It's a frightening kind of cavern
with familiar shadows long
yet only absence of all light
allows emergence, free and strong
If love contains our knowledge,
all these stories in our skin,
our beings will only widen
as knowing works within
A gentle inner landscape
awakens slowly to its task;
Pleasure applauds purpose
that surrenders present,
honors past
"Knowing grows and love expands to contain it. Love is just the skin of knowing."
- William Paul Young, from "The Shack"
