"Nothing whatever pertaining to godliness and real holiness can be accomplished without grace." St. Augustine
Somewhere I Have Never Travelled
(By E. E. Cummings) Somewhere I have never travelled, gladly beyond Any experience, your eyes have their silence: In your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, Or which I cannot touch because they are too near Your slightest look easily will unclose me Though I have closed myself as fingers, You open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens (Touching skillfully, mysteriously)her first rose Or if your wish be to close me, I and My life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly, As when the heart of this flower imagines The snow carefully everywhere descending; Nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals The power of your intense fragility: whose texture Compels me with the color of its countries, Rendering death and forever with each breathing (I do not know what it is about you that closes And opens; only something in me understands The voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) Nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands