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