You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
To know the pain of too much tenderness
If aught I have said is truth, that truth shall reveal itself in a clearer voice, and in words more kin to your thoughts.
And that which sings and contemplates in you is still dwelling within the bounds of that first moment which scattered the stars into space.
Why dispute what we shall be, when we know not even what we are.
I learnt silence from the talkative