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I offer whatever I do, and let it go. Letting it go is what turns the world. Not the effort, but dropping the effort in the action, like a finger writing on water.
I do not know if what I do could move the world, or change anything, or if the world is a great circle, ever returning. I do know that each of us is a butterfly wing, moving a breath of air that lifts a wisp of pollen and blows it away, to fall on its dust-mote-mate in a distant meadow, spawning a flower that will be given to a lady, who will glance into a pair of longing eyes and reconsider his soul,
and fall in love, conceiving an infant who
will grow up into a farmer, whose wheat will
nourish a poet who will inspire a teacher to
empower a child to become a doctor who will save
a baby's life, that she might grow into a spiritual
teacher, who could move the world a little closer
to its heart.
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