Somehow, the words of Hesychius br have reached us after more than a thousand years br and from a desert place, Mount Sinai; br where he was famed for ‘breathing Jesus’ br (there’s something in me says, br that’s quieter than the pulpit..) br and thus, talked little.. br br but he said (and this they wrote down, br preserved, passed on, quoted, marvelled, br sought to practise; succeeded.. or ever, failed? … br br ‘One who watches carefully over the heart br will quickly see, how the heart br of its own nature, is emitting light’… br br and I’m sad; with that sweet sadness br when you hear of a beauty that br you didn’t know existed; br wondering, if one day… br or every day.. and how long br it would take, and whether br you, or I, would ever have br the strengths, whatever they might be, br to attain that state… br br and how it must have been, br when word got round, and others watched br their heart, his monastery glowed br like a family of fireflies in the dusk, br as cool, as bright, as love bestowed br without the asking.. br br Tomorrow, you may see me in the street, br walking a little more slowly than the usual; br rapt in a wordless thought, br discreetly glancing at the passers-by; br beyond the judging failure or success, br treasuring a sweet silver gift, br a cool, new beauty promised.