My soul is not asleep.
It is awake, wide awake.
It neithr sleeps, nor dreams, but watches,
its eyes wide open, sees
far-off things, and listens
at the shore of the great silence.
The sun hears the fields talking about effort
and the sun smiles,
and whispers to me, "Why don't the fields just rest, for
I am willing to do
everything
to help them grow?"
Rest, my dears, in prayer.