The Silent Eye

Cerne Abbas (11)

Have you ever laid in the dew damp grass of morning and watched the petals of a daisy unfold, purest white, lifting its heart to the sun? Or seen a newborn creature take its first breath, opening its eyes on a new world? That was the gift I felt I was being given as a young man and I sat on a doorstep in the sunshine, talking of those questions that lie hidden in each of us. It would have been impossible to say who was the teacher and who the student as the sunlight poured down, honey gold and warm on one of those moments outside time where all that matters is opening the heart.

Like the walrus and the carpenter, we spoke of many things, not sealing wax and cabbages, but equally disparate, yet somehow all with a similar theme. As if we were piecing together a puzzle…

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