Grace Is Prudent

In its own sight

Prudence is always little

On its own assessment

Grace remains small

Easy pond stays stale

Gentle arrows yield daily fruits

Growing wings soar

Question stirs up insight

Single heart with open ears

Is a worthy tool

Who hurries a speaking snail

Experience drifts from origin

Snorring dwarf comes awake

Browny branch becomes green

Numb skill regain sense

Lame knees acquire strength

Vision can not be fooled

And rituals do not save

Truth cannot be stopped

And wonders may lie