There must be always remaining in every life,
some place for the singing of angels,
some place for that which in itself is breathless and beautiful.
some place for the singing of angels,
some place for that which in itself is breathless and beautiful.
~Howard Thurman
Yesterday afternoon my sister and I went to the beach. We spread out our towel, settled back on the sand and watch the clouds dance through the sky. Seagulls played in the warm air. Clouds magically changed into shapes as our imaginations recognized some and not others. Tuning into nature so deeply in that moment we felt we had found such a place ~ breathless and beautiful ~ a place for the singing of angels.
Yesterday afternoon my sister and I went to the beach. We spread out our towel, settled back on the sand and watch the clouds dance through the sky. Seagulls played in the warm air. Clouds magically changed into shapes as our imaginations recognized some and not others. Tuning into nature so deeply in that moment we felt we had found such a place ~ breathless and beautiful ~ a place for the singing of angels.
No comments:
Post a Comment