Windward Quietist
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Posts : 13
Join date : 2024-07-17
 | | Subject: Quietist Poem for Teaching #4 Wed Sep 18, 2024 8:40 pm | |
| Tranquil twilight tenderly touches the earth,
Prayer permeates the very air we breathe,
Silence surrenders to the sacred mirth,
Where hearts in whispers speak, in quietude they wreathe.
In the sanctum of a soul's retreat,
Where desires lay down their clamorous quest,
We find the Lord in silent greet,
In stillness, His love is at its best.
Threefold the silence, as the ancients teach,
First, the tongue in hush, then desires cease,
The third, the mind's chatter in gentle reach,
As thoughts give way to the vast, divine peace.
In the cloister of unspoken pleas,
Where words are shed like leaves in autumn's sway,
The soul in God's embrace finds sweet release,
And learns the wisdom of the quiet way.
Without speaking, desiring, we find our ease,
In the bosom of the One who's all in all,
Where thoughts are stilled and the spirit freeze,
Our very being becomes a silent call.
The first, of words, a virtuous start,
Where actions speak the prayers we've held within,
The second, of desires, a gentle ease,
Where in quietude, our souls begin to spin.
The third, of thoughts, the deepest part,
Where God alone can truly dwell,
A silent shrine within the heart,
Where heaven's whispers are revealed so well.
As Jesus taught in sacred art,
Within the closet of our core,
To pray to Him who never will depart,
In secret, we're made an open door.
When all is quiet, and the mind is bare,
The goodness of the Lord takes flight,
In the abyss of deepest care,
We find the light of pure delight.
Prayer, unceasing, a sacred fare,
Becomes the air we breathe, the food we crave,
In silent union, love is there,
In the most perfect, mystic, silent rave.
Words may falter, desires may fade,
But in the stillness, truth is found,
Our prayers become a gentle glade,
Where God's own whispers softly sound.
Goodness, a river, ever flows from Him,
With light that pierces every veil,
And in this silent hymn,
Our souls begin to fully sail.
The closet's door, our hearts, we close tight,
To pray in secret to the heavenly guide,
And open wide, we shall receive the gift of light,
In the open book of the world so wide.
The humblest prayer, the deepest praise,
Is to be present, to be still, to be,
In God's own image, in quiet amaze,
Where love alone does all the will. | |
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