| p33 | Where there is heart there is still a trickle longing to become a stream, a flood, a pouring forth. Like not unto beasts of labor, yoked and shackled, is the human heart, but like is she unto the babe, a hidden messenger of the divine. Each heart carries coded divinity that, like an open channel, sends out its distinction in its pulse, an answer to the One who awaits her response. Holy to holy. |