We Are The Sons Of

The Snow And The Storm Destroy The Flower; But Its Seed They Cannot Kill.

And Forget Not That The Earth Delights To Feel Your Bare Feet And The Winds Long To Play With Your Hair.

Much Of Your Pain Is The Bitter Potion By Which The Physician Within You Heals Your Sick Self.

Say Not, I Have Found The Path Of The Soul Say Rather, I Have Met The Soul Walking Upon My Path.

To Judge You By Your Failures Is To Cast Blame Upon The Seasons For Their Inconstancy.