He prayed as he breathed, forming no words and making no specific requests, only holding his heart, like broken birds in cupped hands,

Now you are walking in Paris all alone in the crowdAs herds of bellowing buses drive byLove’s anguish tightens your throatAs if you were never to be loved againIf you lived in the old days...

Living in a monastery, even as a guest rather than a monk, you have more opportunities than you might have elsewhere to see the world as it is, instead of through the shadow that you...

My imagination is a monastery, and I am its monk