The Prayer | ink on paper | 100 x 72 cm
Those who will not slip beneath
the still surface on the well of grief,
turning down through its black water
to the place we cannot breathe,
will never know the source from which we drink,
the secret water, cold and clear,
nor find in the darkness glimmering,
the small round coins,
thrown by those who wished for something else.
– The Well of Grief by David Whyte
Within the surrender of prayer we are poised to fall, just as we are poised to be caught, by the incoming swell of something unknown, something truly magnificent.