Reading the old monks daily meditations:

They were making maps, these monks
Into an inner space where we knew ourselves and one another better

(that is, in Love)

.
Silence was the door, for them to find their tones of lines on the map

they were making for us;

but the noise of banquet was inside and implied by their lines–

Confetti and grief, suffering and relief,

where life might lead us to.

Once we GPS-ed the map, we all wanted to go
To the great party within-
To dance and suffer well together!
My Friend.
Thanks for those cartographers of the soul
And, for the maps they left us to know by.