WEBVTT

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The woman you love is singing.

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Quick, tell her what you love.

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Don't tell her what you believe.

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Don't tell her if
God is dead or alive.

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Don't tell her what's
wrong with the world

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and how to fix everyone in it.

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The woman you love is singing.

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Her voice is laying a table
in the presence of death.

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The service shines irradiating
the cardinal points,

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establishing the
above and the below.

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You are awake inside a larger
sleep, inside a greater waking.

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Even as the bell of
this hour she rings out

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is rung within a larger
silence, which itself

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is trough to the crest of
a greater ringing at whose

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audible limit begins yet
another deeper silence born

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into audience by one speaking
those founding words,

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I love you.

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Now is not the time to
quote scriptures or repeat

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manifestos.

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The woman you love
is alive and singing,

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making a new world out of all
she loves and all she loved.

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Don't remain outside her song.

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Whatever enters her singing
lives again, twice born.

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And there's only one way in.

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Speak your love clearly.

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Live again.

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So what if no one
else can hear her?

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So what if no one else witnesses
her making and remaking

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the world in the
image of her love?

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Soon, her singing will
stop, and all you'll hear

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is the violence of a world
untouched by her song.

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Remaining outside of her
singing has cost you so much.

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Quick, tell her what you love.

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[APPLAUSE]

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Thank you.