How can a soul break forth
when earth has buried it,
that seeks naturally what is naturally involved.
The mighty bridge holds the frame of the designer,
And towers over so man may pass,
but when howling wind surge over the midst
Man tears down the bridge and builds it afresh.
Why bridges built from those that are sound?
Why material involved when material is giv'n?
In abundance or not enough indeed
Proves the Master's allotment of our need.
Where is the hypocrite who builds bridges,
taking his material from the Master's pail,
For when the rains come, his bridge collapses
And his volition with him fall to hell.
Wash the sand from your eyes, the master bore
And surely I will give you more,
For laws you don't understand heal your sore,
And flows away the sand evermore.
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I had to read this more than once to get the full meaning. Another one needs to be published!
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