Last night, under the bright full moon, I reveled in a cold, solitary walk down to see the sea. As always, it fed my soul and spirit. I talked with God about the past year, and the new one, asked Him many questions, and thanked Him for His gifts of redemption and beauty.

I have a slight inferiority complex about never having taken a literature class. I don’t know what good poetry is, and haven’t been taught how to appreciate the best writers. I call myself an amateur aficionado of words, but when I saw these lines by T. S. Eliot today in Jill Carratini’s Slice of Infinity, I heard/felt a soul-deep resonance. I think that’s one indication of good literature. I don’t know all that Eliot was implying, but there is enough there that I identify with that it draws me toward it. Which is another quality of good poetry.

The new years walk, restoring
Through a bright cloud of tears, the years, restoring
With a new verse the ancient rhyme. Redeem
The time. Redeem
The unread vision in the higher dream.