The Voice

Many people warned me, but I would not hear. I listened to another voice. It has always been so, even before I knew whose voice it was. When I was very young, I thought it a weakness, a personal defect. But I learned that it was strength, the incomparable strength of weakness. In the presence of such strength, which is not mine, I become nothing and whatever else there is becomes all. I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint. My heart has turned to wax; it has melted within me. And yet I am nothing. All else aside from me is life. I was told to save myself, but I would not hear. I listened to another voice. My job is done. It is finished, day by day. This is the last day until the last of the last. And in this, the peace that passes all understanding, do I rejoice eternally, both now and forever, until that day when love takes its own hand in glorious embrace.