A provocation from the Masters It takes a lot to give away; generosity is borne of a feeling of plenty.

Cultivate private abundance like a crop. Sun, patience and nourishment are all that is necessary. Plant roots away from toxicity. Cleave to the stronger, cleave away from the pests. Secrete in the open. A fading light faintly remembers how precious the light is. A darkening sky is both comfort and exhilaration. A fading light is sadder than the grasping world, but it hints at the power of the dark. Remember: A person would have to look hard to find a totally dark place. This is a shivering "now", whispered to shush sickening newness. A quickening. "The thinker says being; the poet says holy" The sacred No is borne of sadness, which is enough in this world. The sacred Yes is said by drunk thinkers in a poetic mood, or Maybe the other way. Give me my ligaments, the liniments and linens. Shh. I was briefly noted for concision, but I become obscure. Give me the dark soil. Covered, let me sleep until the ice melts. Light is itself - see it come, little germ?