Your Body Is Woven From

I Am An Ark In The Swift Flood Of Time, And My Companions, A Fellowship. Who Throws In With Us Sails Into Light.

What Will Our Children Do In The Morning If They Do Not See Us Fly?

Do Not Grieve Over Any Joy That Has Gone Forever, For It Will Return To You In Another Form, Know That For Sure.

Your Hand Opens And Closes, Opens And Closes. If It Were Always A Fist Or Always Stretched Open, You Would Be Paralysed. Your Deepest Presence Is In Every Small Contracting And Expanding, The Two As Beautifully Balanced And Coordinated As Birds' Wings.

If You Are Wholly Perplexed And In Straits, Have Patience, For Patience Is The Key To Joy.