ah! the heart stirring
strangeness
in a star,
a stream,
a stone,
the mysterious
in every simple sacred thing.
We walk in seeming ordinariness,
yet
we are steeped
in Mystery.
At the heart of this mystery
is the stillness
a stillness that never leaves.
in the heart of light, the silence.. another of those Toms. Tom Eliot.. And the still hides a sub-atomic world of movement. But in the nucleus too there is stillness. If we search for it, we shall possess it. Oh, so many thoughts come out of this fine poem, Norah! Thanks Tom Billsborough
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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