You’re A Song, A Wished-for Song.

The Same Wind That Uproots Trees Makes The Grass Shine. The Lordly Wind Loves The Weakness And The Lowness Of Grasses. Never Brag Of Being Strong. The Axe Doesn't Worry How Thick The Branches Are. It Cuts Them To Pieces. But Not The Leaves. It Leaves The Leaves Alone.

Be Helpless, Dumbfounded, Unable To Say Yes Or No. Then A Stretcher Will Come From Grace To Gather Us Up. We Are Too Dull-eyed To See That Beauty. If We Say We Can, We’re Lying. If We Say No, We Don’t See It, That No Will Behead Us And Shut Tight Our Window Onto Spirit. So Let Us Rather Not Be Sure Of Anything, Beside Ourselves, And Only That, So Miraculous Beings Come Running To Help. Crazed, Lying In A Zero Circle, Mute, We Shall Be Saying Finally, With Tremendous Eloquence, Lead Us. When We Have Totally Surrendered To That Beauty, We Shall Be A Mighty Kindness.

Knowledge That Is Acquired Is Not Like This. Those Who Have It Worry If Audiences Like It Or Not. It's A Bait For Popularity. Disputational Knowing Wants Customers. It Has No Soul... The Only Real Customer Is God. Chew Quietly Your Sweet Sugarcane God-love, And Stay Playfully Childish.

Yesterday I Was Clever, So I Wanted To Change The World. Today I Am Wise, So I Am Changing Myself.

Since I Was Cut From The Reedbed I Have Made This Crying Sound. Anyone Separated From Someone He Loves Understands What I Say. Anyone Pulled From A Source Longs To Go Back.