Hidden in the heart of things thou art nourishing seeds into
sprouts, buds into blossoms, and ripening flowers into
fruitfulness.
I was tired and sleeping on my idle bed and imagined all work had
ceased. In the morning I woke up and found my garden full with
wonders of flowers.
Time is endless in thy hands, my lord. There is none to count
thy minutes.
Days and nights pass and ages bloom and fade like flowers. Thou
knowest how to wait.
Thy centuries follow each other perfecting a small wild flower.
We have no time to lose, and having no time we must scramble for
a chances. We are too poor to be late.
And thus it is that time goes by while I give it to every
querulous man who claims it, and thine altar is empty of all
offerings to the last.
At the end of the day I hasten in fear lest thy gate to be shut;
but I find that yet there is time.
Mother, I shall weave a chain of pearls for thy neck with my
tears of sorrow.
The stars have wrought their anklets of light to deck thy feet,
but mine will hang upon thy breast.
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