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If this be thy wish and if this be thy play, then take this

fleeting emptiness of mine, paint it with colours, gild it with

gold, float it on the wanton wind and spread it in varied

wonders.

And again when it shall be thy wish to end this play at night, I

shall melt and vanish away in the dark, or it may be in a smile

of the white morning, in a coolness of purity transparent.

81.

On many an idle day have I grieved over lost time. But it is

never lost, my lord. Thou hast taken every moment of my life in

thine own hands.

Hidden in the heart of things thou art nourishing seeds into

sprouts, buds into blossoms, and ripening flowers into

fruitfulness.

I was tired and sleeping on my idle bed and imagined all work had

ceased. In the morning I woke up and found my garden full with

wonders of flowers.

82.

Time is endless in thy hands, my lord. There is none to count thy

minutes.

Days and nights pass and ages bloom and fade like flowers. Thou

knowest how to wait.