What Have You Done With The Garden

The Wind, One Brilliant Day, Called To My Soul With An Odor Of Jasmine. "in Return For The Odor Of My Jasmine, I'd Like All The Odor Of Your Roses." "i Have No Roses; All The Flowers In My Garden Are Dead." "well Then, I'll Take The Withered Petals And The Yellow Leaves And The Waters Of The Fountain." The Wind Left. And I Wept. And I Said To Myself: "what Have You Done With The Garden That Was Entrusted To You?

Wayfarer, The Only Way Is Your Footsteps, There Is No Other. Wayfarer, There Is No Way, You Make The Way As You Go. As You Go, You Make The Way And Stopping To Look Behind, You See The Path That Your Feet Will Never Travel Again. Wayfarer, There Is No Way- Only Foam Trails To The Sea.

Wanderer, Your Footsteps Are The Road, And Nothing More; Wanderer, There Is No Road, The Road Is Made By Walking. By Walking One Makes The Road, And Upon Glancing Behind One Sees The Path. . .

Between Living And Dreaming There Is A Third Thing. Guess It.

Don't Try To Rush Things: For The Cup To Run Over, It Must First Be Filled.