The
Heart is right to cry
Even when the smallest drop of light,
Of love,
Is taken away.
Perhaps you may kick, moan, scream
In a dignified
Silence,
The
Heart is right to cry
Even when the smallest drop of light,
Of love,
Is taken away.
Perhaps you may kick, moan, scream
In a dignified
Silence,
In my travels, I came upon a village that had a new temple built over a big well, but no one could draw water from it without paying a price.
I asked about this, and this story was told:
One hundred years ago, there was a group of boys that would go to the well to swim, that is, all but one would dive from the top, for one was crippled and could only watch. With all his heart, he would wish he was like his friends, that his one arm and leg had not been limp since he was born.
One day, when it was especially hot, and he was watching his friends cut up and laugh at the bottom of the well, they all turned to him and stared in awe as if seeing something miraculous.