We dance round in a ring and suppose, but the secret sits in the middle and knows. Robert Frost (1875-1963)

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I have always known the mystery. It is not the wind, though it is the flow of it, and it is not the waves, though it is their force and colour, and it is not the roar of bushfires or the ache of earthquakes, though these things give voice to it, and it is not the silence between lovers, though it might be what brought them to that silence, and it is not the drive of the ambitious man, or the obsession of the vigilante, though it might be the path that delivers them to their fate. I have known the mystery through the sacred lines of poets set down since the beginning in prayers, vedas, sutras, hymns, incantations, chants—all poems in the conversation between us and the mystery, a conversation that continues regardless of whether we construct the world as sacred or secular, a conversation that insists itself upon those who have the button.

DONNA WARD

http://www.australianpoetry.org/2013/10/09/editorial-6/

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