We are all like the bright moon, we still have our darker side.

And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.

You progress not through what has been done, but reaching towards what has yet to be done.

For to be idle is to become a stranger unto the seasons, and to step out of life’s procession that marches in majesty and proud submission towards the infinite.

You shall be free indeed when your days are not without a care, nor your nights without a want and a grief, but rather when these things girdle your life and yet you rise above them naked and unbound.

To judge you by your failures is to cast blame upon the seasons for their inconstancy.

And before my Soul took me to task I was hard of hearing; I heard only tumult and uproar. But now I am all ears listening to the silence and its choirs singing the hymns of time, intoning the praises of the firmament, revealing the secrets of the invisible.