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For well I know the spring that flows so free,
although it is night.

That fountain is eternal and concealed,
though well I know from where it is revealed,
although it is night.

Its origin, unknown, nor has it one,
yet from her have all origins begun,
although it is night.

I know there can’t be any thing so fair,
and that the heavens and earth both drink from there,
although it is night.

I know no one its bottom e’er could sound,
no way to cross it ever could be found,
although it is night.

Its clarity ne’er is made to be obscure,
I know each ray of light has come from her,
although it is night.

I know that it’s so full its currents swell,
and water all the people, heaven and hell,
although it is night.

~ A poem by Saint John of the Cross, O.C.D.

❤

Sum Of Perfection

Forgetting all things creaturely,
remembering the Creator,
attending to the interior,
and loving the One loving thee.

~ Saint John of the Cross, O.C.D.