The gods are less for their love of praise. <br />Above and below them all is a spirit that needs nothing <br />but its own wholeness, its health and ours. <br />It has made all things by dividing itself. <br />It will be whole again. <br />To its joy we come together -- <br />the seer and the seen, the eater and the eaten, <br />the lover and the loved. <br />In our joining it knows itself. It is with us then, <br />not as the gods whose names crest in unearthly fire, <br />but as a little bird hidden in the leaves <br />who sings quietly and waits, and sings.<br /><br />Wendell Berry<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-hidden-singer/
