Sunday, May 4, 2014

I am just a -"Little BIRD"

This sudden, perennial(lasting for an indefinitely long time) interest and surprising this fleeting(passing swiftly/transitory) attention, without zero false pretense(pretending, artificial,not real) and here, this moment, erased suddenly while my excitement grew over time, the soul has forgotten the child for a new face(new things & people/materialistic comfort), with uncertain outlines I do despite(hate/insult/ in spite of; notwithstanding) my heart, make a little lack of fervor(great warmth and intensity of emotion), must slow down the fire(anguish)-Just the illusion of one be, transparent without transcendent(exceeding usual limits,surpassing/extending or lying beyond the limits of ordinary experience) attire(fine elegant clothes).

I force myself in vain to meditate on the mysteries of the rosary; I don't succeed in fixing my mind on them. For a long time I was desolate(deserted, joyless, uninhabited, sorrowful) about this lack of devotion which astonished me, Sometimes when my mind is in such aridity(being without moisture; extremely dry; parched: arid land; an arid climate) that it is impossible to draw forth one single thought to unite me with God.

I am going to recount certain little struggles which will certainly make you smile. (It's just between you and me though)

I am far from being a saint, and what I have just said is proof of this; instead of rejoicing, for example, at my aridity, I should attribute it to my little fervor and lack of fidelity(the quality or state of being faithful/accuracy in details : exactness); I should be desolate for having slept for years. I am not desolate. I remember that little children are as pleasing to their parents when they are asleep as well as when they are wide awake; I remember, too, that when they perform operations, doctors put their patients to sleep.

Your little bird is happy to be weak and little. What would become of it if it were big? Yes, this is still one of the weaknesses of the little bird: when it wants to fix its gaze upon the Divine Sun, and when the clouds prevent it from seeing a single ray of that Sun, in spite of itself, its little eyes close, its little head is hidden beneath its wing, and the poor little thing falls asleep, believing all the time that it is fixing its gaze upon its Dear Star. When it awakens, it doesn’t feel desolate; its little heart is at peace and it begins once again its work of love. It calls upon the angels and saints who rise like eagles before the consuming Fire, and since this is the object of the little bird’s desire the eagles take pity on it, protecting and defending it, and putting to flight at the same time the vultures who want to devour it. These vultures are the demons whom the little bird doesn’t fear, for it is not destined to be their prey but the prey of the Eagle whom it contemplates in the center of the Sun of Love. - Anonymous

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