After meditation in the cloister of Gloucester Cathedral:

‘The word sounded invisibly within him, like a familiar scent filling the world until he knew nothing but its impression. Falling inwards, his words tipped out into a pool of silence, each drop a face rising up within his mind.

This pool was a lake, a sea, a silvered drop of dew suspended in his heart, dark cave, flowing out to touch all that was and is and will be.

Here the generations collected, a single mouth through which he danced, through which he knew them; one sound, their mouths filled with dust and light, their note sounding on in his breath.

Each sound he knew would fall into the next, flowing on within him; they pulled his heart towards its note, that he might vanish in the harmony of the uncreated, the unsung.

 

 

 

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