All is Light

My Friend


No Longer Me

Silent Heart

The Sadness of Knowing

The Light


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Silent Heart

If I could say it, I would, but how can I begin,
when there is no beginning.
How can I speak of what words can but hint
at the shadow of,
without losing the perfection of it.
I know not whether to laugh or cry.
I know not how to begin to see it as totally
as I know it was,
as it IS.

Let go, for it is still here,
absolute grace, purity of motive,
the opening of a flower that in a moment feared
for the coming of Dawn.

Never could the rightness of it be judged
or spoken of, for who can know the blessing
but those graced by the touch of its tender hand,
soothed in the light of its warming smile,
forgiven in the shine of its gracious eye,
bathed in the Peace of its gentle Presence.

As a lily will rise out of the mire,
so out of the darkness of doubt opened the perfection
of the Flower of Light.

I feel the need somehow to say “Thank You!”
but how and to whom?
I gave myself to “You,” knowing the safety of Your “Arms,”
not realizing at first who the “You” was.
When You raised me up I knew who You were,
appearing as my experience in this way,
Thy Love flowing into and as
the moment of

Speechless am I in the face of that moment,
which still IS.
How beautiful the glow; how radiant the Light;
how soothing the smile; how loving the touch of that
Silent Heart.

1974, Tony Titshall





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