Simplicity

It opens, the gate to the garden with the docility of a page that frequent devotion questions and inside, my gaze has no need to fix on objects that already exist, exact, in memory. I know the customs and souls and that dialect of allusions that every human gathering goes weaving. I've no need to speak nor claim false privilege; they know me well who surround me here, know well my afflictions and weakness. This is to reach the highest thing, that Heaven perhaps will grant us: not admiration or victory but simply to be accepted as part of an undeniable Reality, like stones and trees.