Nothing would give up life: Even the dirt keeps breathing a small breath.

Being, not doing, is my first joy.

Pain wanders through my bones like a lost fire

I have gone into the waste lonely places

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow. I feel my fate in what I cannot fear. I learn by going where I have to go.

I lose and find myself in the long water. I am gathered together once more.

Over every mountain there is a path, although it may not be seen from the valley.