Be Like The Flower, Turn Your Faces

A Little While, A Moment Of Rest Upon The Wind, And Another Woman Shall Bear Me.

Your Joy Is Your Sorrow Unmasked. And The Same Well From Which Your Laughter Rises Was Oftentimes Filled With Your Tears. And How Else Can It Be? The Deeper That Sorrow Carves Into Your Being, The More Joy You Can Contain. Is Not The Cup That Holds Your Wine The Very Cup That Was Burned In The Potter's Oven? And Is Not The Lute That Soothes Your Spirit, The Very Wood That Was Hollowed With Knives?

And As A Single Leaf Turns Not Yellow But With The Silent Knowledge Of The Whole Tree.

I Have Pondered Long, And I Know Now That Only The Pure Of Heart Forgive The Thirst That Leads To Dead Waters. And Only The Sure Of Foot Can Give A Hand To Him Who Stumbles.

The Power To Love Is God's Greatest Gift To Man, For It Never Will Be Taken From The Blessed One Who Loves.