Ποιητής ουρανού καί γής

Yes, I am still alive. I have to pinch myself sometimes, just to make sure. I have to read a word I’ve written, to make sure I have not gone mad, or gone missing. Where am I? Always and forever, here, because He is here, am, because He is. Mine, because He has given me myself, His gift, once and only, inimitable, unfeignable, the same yet different from all His other gifts, which as they gently fall from His caring hands, form themselves into worlds, persons, creations, visible and invisible. He is Lord, and we are nothing but praise, returning back to Him the reflection of His blessed face, which He has imprinted in our depths, singing back to Him the song with which He sang all that is into being. Empty, so that He may fill me. Silent, so that He may teach me. Slow, so that He may quicken me. Dead, so that He may raise me.

O Lord, how wonderous You are among Your saints!