Читать книгу Herbs and Apples - Whitney Helen Hay - Страница 18

I tire of the struggle, the search for the ultimate I,

There hangs the chalice of sapphire, the infinite sky,

Why thro' the space of despair should my spirit be hurled

Seeking for truth, when beneath lies this pearl of a world?

Seers may direct us thro' pain to discover the soul,

Comforting joy may not give us the absolute whole,

But if the seers should be wrong, may the truth not be ours

Thanking dear Life for its light and its beautiful hours?