Each empowered one, whose space is scolded for being forbidden, boasts of silent power. The cord of the way shows the path of the passage in small steps, unawares. To be able to read between the lines of understanding opens the eye to innocence. The power of sublimity weighs the trace of that first hour, whose courage long ago blazed in the great fire. If the word of concealment is imagined, sorrow tears itself one last time in pain, unquenched in all that is to come. The clarity of essence clears the action of wisdom far from any twilight. The shadow falls in darkness.
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