Saturday, July 24, 2010


At the center of Creation lies a spot of

ceaseless rest,

Where the silent spirit broodeth like a

dove upon its nest:

Round it runs the deep horizon in its golden

quiet curled,
Round it at the wheel of Motion spins the

fashion of the world.

Noiselessly thy gates swing open for their

bars are made of light,

Swinging on the raven darkness from the

outer-wall of night;

Crystal city of the Silent, built beyond

the sounds of sin,

Lift afar your swarming gateways, let the

silent myriads in.
(from the poem "Silence" by S. Miller Hageman, 1876)

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