In the pouring forth of wisdom
all things have their being;
wisdom in my shining,
wisdom beyond me shining.
All things are branches
of the Tree of wisdom
wisdom in me growing,
wisdom beyond me growing.
In the circle of being
all things share a blessing;
wisdom in me turning,
wisdom beyond me turning.
Is itpossible to prepare for our death with the same attentiveness that our parents had in preparing for our birth?
Can we wait for our death as for a friend who wants to welcome us home?