Sunday 21 February 2016

O you who dwell in all places, you the Beauty, my eyes are ruined in seraching you without having found you!

ô toi qui demeures en tout lieu, toi la Beauté, mes yeux s’abîment à te chercher sans te trouver!

that she prepares for Heaven, many beloved follow her in procession, it is all together that we are preparing Heaven.

May at the start of vigils the name of my loved one spread forth : an oil, a kiss! The Holy Spirit is Consoler of all, Consoler of those who are loved, Consoler of those who love. Henceforth in him all is lived out, love in its germination, love in its fruit.

Desiring him so much, means I know I am loved

I aspire him, whereas he draws me out of sleep

He is here, waiting for me and he burns me from within

May he bring to its end this perfect stripping of self.

If already this waiting for him devours me from within, desire prepares the fresh encounter. Only the Canticle of Love, in quest of the gentle face, gives a premonition about these crazy sparks out of this ardent furnace. It flows from the Name of Jesus, a Love so desired, an oil which spreads out onto so many wounds, a light of hope in the dark valley.

To the one you give me, I shall give again

My whole Being so that ours be her clarity.