All things are passing. The powerful tidal waves of time carry all events along until all that remains are echoes in the wind or driftwood along some lonely stretch of shore.

In time everything fades away like snow flakes in the summer sun.

If it is peace you desire it will come only when you are willing to let go.

All history is composed of patterns of light and dark that alter and shift like clouds drifting across an empty sky.

Beyond the cacophony of our restless world, beyond the incessant chatter, beyond the multitude of distractions with which we occupy our anxious thoughts lies the infinite dimension of silence. It is only when we choose to enter that spacious state of consciousness that our spirits can expand and stretch until we are able to touch the horizon of infinity. On updrafts of deep respirations we break the fetters of illusion and drift like the great raptors freed from the tyranny of gravity.

Silence is the essence of and the voice of the transcendent. It is the quiescent sea out of whose depths all being arises and to which all being returns.