There’s a certain grace to things, a certain rhythm of the Yes that pulses through all nature. It rides in the vast unseen spaces of the molecules and atoms, in their grand, endless flickering and flow. It creates and precedes them. It gives rise to the appearance and disappearance, to the inbreath and the exhalation of all that is and could be.
Seeing it, we call it beauty. Feeling it, we call it peace. Hearing its song, we call it love. And so it is, and more.