The language of the mystics
with which they try to describe
the splendours of their love,
forces upon the unprejudiced reader,
the conviction that they are dealing
with an ardour far more burning
for an object far more real.
St. John of the Cross’s finite passions
are but the feeble images
of his infinite one.
Only this mystic passion
can lead us from our prison.
The desire of knowledge
may enlarge one’s vision
and help one to get out of the prison,
but it can never unlock the doors.
Only this mystic passion can lead us from our prison I studied john of the cross as a young monk and I still love his poetry What an amazing mystic this doctor of the dark night Thank you Tony
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
hi! tony. thought to read a poem of yours today and picked this one. do i understand correctly from your last line that it is grace alone unlocks the doors? if you haven't already read it, you might like my poem On Reading a Book of Mystic Writings. hoping this finds you well in all ways, glen