TymeProse for Sunday, April 12, 2009

Distant stars don't give up souls for the living, as if we are reborn all at once, searching for the shadow without turning. Nor do we shine at birth, amazed at the place we were born before; or watch our past lives with ageless eyes, sighing in wonder of who we are. Soil and stone mark our limits and the sun may chase us from home or the wind may gently hurl us and carry us where it will. But wisdom is not in the sun or the wind-- it comes softly in the rain. Sign in to see full entry.