And here's one of the troubles:
keeping so busy inside and out
that we define ourselves by the known,
the too well known,
the what-we-think-we-know known,
the clever enunciations,
a crisscross of wires
that no light shows through.
That's the trouble.
Becoming as dense as a traffic jam,
so the wind can't blow through.
No wonder God laughs
when we complain we can't
~ Alice Klein