Early in the morning and not a creature is stirring except me. O, and the Heart of the World.
1: Prisons of finitude! Like every other being, man is born in many prisons.
From the grilled windows of the senses each person looks out to the alien things which he will never be.
[T]hey touch the invisible bars -- the cold glass pane against which they hurl themselves like captive birds.
Even if his spirit could fly through the spaces of the world like a bird, he himself will never be this space, and the furrow which traces in the air vanishes immediately and leaves no lasting impression.
No one can tear down his own dungeon; no one knows who inhabits the next cell.
The mere fact of existing as an individual constitutes renunciation.
The limpid mirror has been shattered, the infinite image has been shattered over the face of the world, the world has become a heap of fragments.
In the One Ocean the waves rise and sink; body floats past body, figures and generations, century after century are all so much foam falling prostrate on the broad beach of eternity in a most tremendous obeisance.
2: Then it was that God created a Heart for himself and placed it at the center of the world.
And so the Word came into the world. Eternal life selected for itself the abode of a human Heart.
How exposed God had made himself! What folly he committed!
The divine Ocean forced into the tiny wellspring of a human Heart!
Thus does this Heart hover between heaven and earth like the narrow passage in an hourglass, and incessantly the sand of grace trickles from the upper compartment down to the earthly bottom.
Everything that had been one becomes double, and everything double becomes one.
And the two oceans crash into one another in that Heart, like fire and water, and the eternal struggle between heaven and hell is decided within that narrow battlefield.
The circulation of love begins.
3: Reverse worldward descent and cross the bridge of darkness to the father shore.
Insinuate! Now put down the apple and back away slowly, and nobody dies!
But no body crosses the the phoenix line lest it be repossessed and amortized.
Don't worry, it's just aphasia go through before the gnosis in your head becomes real.
O, too old, older than Abraham, younger than a babe's I AM.
Ascent you a Son, amen for a child's job! That's the New Man, we're just putting him on.
A Divine child, a godsend, a touch of infanity, a bloomin' Yes!
Blissfully floating before the fleeting flickering universe, stork naked in brahma daynight, worshiping in oneder in a wee cosmic womb with pew, it is finally...
(Parts 1 & 2 from Balthasar's Heart of the World https://www.amazon.com/dp/0898700019/ref=as_sl_pc_tf_til?tag=onecos-20&linkCode=w00&linkId=fd2e0b164c968a7a865f10a1e126c10d&creativeASIN=0898700019; no one foolish enough to take credit for part 3)