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That day I saw beneath dark clouds
the passing light over the water
and I heard the voice of the world speak out,
I knew then, as I had before
life is no passing memory of what has been
nor the remaining pages in a great book
waiting to be read.
It is the opening of eyes long closed.
It is the vision of far off things
seen for the silence they hold . . .
It is Moses in the desert
fallen to his knees before the lit bush.
It is the man throwing away his shoes . . .
and finding himself astonished,
opened at last,
fallen in love with solid ground.