The Unknown Self
So much of what delights and troubles you
Happens on a surface
You take for ground,
Your mind thinks your life alone,
Your eyes consider air your nearest neighbour,
Yet it seems that a little below your heart
There houses in you an unknown self
Who prefers the patterns of the dark
And is not persuaded by the eye’s affection
Or caught by the flash of thought.
Excerpt only: John O’Donohue, from Benedictus – A Book of Blessings
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