Poetry often enters through the window of irrelevance.

From the seed grows a root, then a sprout; from the sprout, the seedling leaves; from the leaves, the stem; around the stem, the branches; at the top, the flower. . . We cannot say that the seed causes the growth, nor that the soil does. We can say that the potentialities for growth lie within the seed, in mysterious life forces, which, when properly fostered, take on certain forms.

We must be steady enough in ourselves, to be open and to let the winds of life blow through us, to be our breath, our inspiration . . .

Compassion is an alternate perception

Let no one be deluded that a knowledge of the path can substitute for putting one foot in front of the other.

It helps, I think, to consider ourselves on a very long journey: the main thing is to keep to the faith, to endure, to help each other when we stumble or tire, to weep and press on.

Inhabit ourselves that we may indeed do what we want to do.