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

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