One day you finally knew |
| what you had to do, and began, |
| though the voices around you |
| kept shouting |
| their bad advice — |
| though the whole house |
| began to tremble |
| and you felt the old tug |
| at your ankles. |
| “Mend my life!” |
| each voice cried. |
| But you didn’t stop. |
| You knew what you had to do, |
| though the wind pried |
| with its stiff fingers |
| at the very foundations, |
| though their melancholy |
| was terrible. |
| It was already late |
| enough, and a wild night, |
| and the road full of fallen |
| branches and stones. |
| But little by little, |
| as you left their voice behind, |
| the stars began to burn |
| through the sheets of clouds, |
| and there was a new voice |
| which you slowly |
| recognized as your own, |
| that kept you company |
| as you strode deeper and deeper |
| into the world, |
| determined to do |
| the only thing you could do — |
| determined to save |
| the only life that you could save. |
.
Meditation is old and honorable, so why should I
not sit, every morning of my life, on the hillside,
looking into the shining world? Because, properly
attended to, delight, as well as havoc, is suggestion.
Can one be passionate about the just, the
ideal, the sublime, and the holy, and yet commit
to no labor in its cause? I don’t think so.
All summations have a beginning, all effect has a
story, all kindness begins with the sown seed.
Thought buds toward radiance. The gospel of
light is the crossroads of —indolence, or action.
Be ignited, or be gon.
Helping brilliant minds flourish.