It is the belief in a power larger than myself and other than myself which allows me to venture into the unknown and even the unknowable. - Maya Angelou Again, if I’m sightless to the inherent disbelief found in the unknowable conclusion of truth, then what I imagine I know, without further seeking, can neither be love nor creation. What of that? Might reason acknowledge it as truth? Is it exactness, as far as any truth might be known? And is it mine to share with the world, mine to give away without the barbs of intolerance or the burden of pride to those seeking? It is yours... Perhaps I can if I’ll but empty it of any words or ideas that act as chains upon the collective spirit, if I’ll avoid any influence that pins down my thoughts or attempts to choke out Love with the ego’s dim-grown intolerance. The deafness found stirring inside of the noise-making, screeching it’s putrid grimness lined in shrill deceit, is simply a numbness to the natural rhythms of sound. ...
(The Weaver's Song)