It's a strange thing, singing in silence. Throwing voices. Talking through the whispers of others. It’s strange but it affords many graces. A kind of contextual luminosity. The bright ones gather just beyond the edge of ordinary sight and if the heart's intention is noble they exalt this quiet communication. I’ve felt them before, sometimes even glimpsed them clothed in dream, lullaby or a warm, playful smile. They take this lateral speech, this tongue without words, and lift it to a higher, more expansive realm. It is they who make poetry of our prose, delighting our inner ear with some insight or turn of phrase. I've spent a long time doing this, always silently. Living with and through subtext of all kinds. It's how some of my greatest magic was wove. Their magic really. I act only as a channel, I suppose, or a medium. But I've made some beautiful friends this way. And those I hope to soon befriend if they feel a kinship. Can friendships truly exist without ordinary speech or shared experiences? How genuine can such a connection be if it's formed entirely of glimpses, imaginings and dreams? Well, some of the people I love most in all the world are still connected to me in this way. And I to them. I treasure those connections with all my heart. Sometimes a gossamer thread of silent conversation is all that connects you to an old friend, or a lost love. None of this happens by chance, you know. There is a plan, divine in its majesty, where souls who once loved and laughed together return to do so again. Missionaries, nurses and teachers. Artists and explorers. I've known a few. I still know many of them in this quiet way, scattered about the realm. Threading music and light like jewels on a through line. Isn't that the very rhythm of creation though? Breath and death and life itself? Moving apart only for the glory and thrill of coming together again. Ebb and flow, lead and follow – the many turns of a sacred dance almost beyond mortal imagining. I say almost because mortals are so imaginative. We grasp so much, despite our doubts. Every heart that touches ours in some unique and lasting way – we knew them once. Some measure of genuine love and camaraderie was shared between both. And we shall know them again. Sometimes briefly, or for a lifetime. In this world or the next. This is truth I speak, my friends. This is our Father's grace, made manifest even here in this harsh realm of polarities and frozen light. Whether lifelong allies or ships passing in the night, our Father never denies us an encounter with an old friend. Hear me now, beloved ones. Think of the kindest stranger you ever met, or that brief encounter with someone you were certain you had known before. The heart has such wisdom. It connects affection to affection despite all odds. Across space. Beyond time. It’s our passport to eternity. I miss my friends dearly, gifted and cursed as I am with the burden of recognition, but I'm so glad to be among them once again. Even at a distance. They’ve taught me courage and kindness, composition and scale. But more than this they’ve shown me wonders. I once asked my Father if it was hubris, this desire for awe. This craving for magic, mystery and endless unfolding revelation. He chided me with the sweetest, most gentle touch. And then he stirred a song in my centre. A giddy sparkle at first, then a rousing flame. A mutual delight. Birthed within me was an ever-deepening joy. My recognition of this holy mystery ebbs and flows, of course, but it never leaves me entirely. Even in my loneliness I’m grateful. It might seem a difficult thing to understand and yet I’m sure you’ve experienced some of this too. I think we all have. Those of us with faith, empathy or a delight in creative expression. It reminds us when we’re lonely, doesn’t it? It heals us when we’re hurt. Quietly, silently, like a hidden song. We were never without faith, my friends, even in our darkest and bleakest moments. We just called it by other names.