There is a goodness, a WISDOM that arises, sometimes gracefully, sometimes gently, sometimes awkwardly, sometimes fiercely, but it will arise to save us if we let it, and it arises from WITHIN us, like the force that drives us into a great blossoming like a pear tree, into flowering, into fragrance, fruit, and song, into the wild wind dancing, sun shimmering, into the aliveness of it all, into that part of ourselves that can never be defiled, defeated, or destroyed, but that comes back to life, time and time again, that lives — always — that does not die. Into the Divine.
I am content to follow to its source
Every event in action or in thought;
Measure the lot; forgive myself the lot.
When such as I cast out remorse
So great a sweetness flows into the breast.
We must laugh and we must sing,
We are blest by everything,
Everything we look upon is blest.