For The Vision Of One

He Was Gentle, Like A Man Mindful Of His Own Strength. In My Dreams I Beheld The Kings Of The Earth Standing In Awe In His Presence.

The Poet Is A Bird Of Strange Moods. He Descends From His Lofty Domain To Tarry Among Us, Singing; If We Do Not Honor Him He Will Unfold His Wings And Fly Back To His Dwelling Place.

How Can I Lose Faith In The Justice Of Life, When The Dreams Of Those Who Sleep Upon Feathers Are Not More Beautiful Than The Dreams Of Those Who Sleep Upon The Earth?

You Often Say ; I Would Give , But Only To The Deserving, The Trees In Your Orchard Say Not So , Nor The Flocks In Your Pasture. Surely He Who Is Worthy To Receive His Days And Nights Is Worthy Of All Else From You. And He Who Has Deserved To Drink From The Ocean Of Life Deserves To Fill His Cup From Your Little Stream. See First That Youyourself Deserve To Be A Giver , And An Insturument Of Giving. For In Truth It Is Life That Gives Unto Life-while You , Who Deem Yourself A Giver , Is But A Witness.

Always You Have Been Told That Work Is A Curse And Labor A Misfortune. But I Say To You That When You Work You Fulfill A Part Of Earth's Furthest Dream, Assigned To You When That Dream Was Born.