Until Your Own Dawn
I did not know life was a fabric woven by my soul.
Any form that can appear to you-should I confess this?-
it is something I made.
All roots nurse from me.
God’s art is mine. I did not want His divine talent.
It simply grew in my heart from
the way I
Existence is a s a young child moving through
a lane at night;
it wanted to
Here, dear earth, hold me,
until your own
— St. Catherine of Siena