Tuesday, May 20, 2003
Oh speak to me willed one.
Who hasn’t but to pay their fair here?
Which of you tastes the acorn of the flint of the pine,
without buds more dull than grit?
Grant me my gift of earning—crops of seeds of sweet seasons.
Nurture what willed with movement of the land, with heat and wind and water as it is.
Grow I say in time of growth.

And strong one . . . . With haste remind me of my penalty; so I soon not forget.
Humble me with the grace of this gem which never be bought or sold, where currency yield as sea to shore. Find me the tycoon who considers such benevolence to market.
Let me put off yet again reward. For who but the wealthiest in spirit knows the liberation provided.

Knowest to judge another is judging me. As it is me and you. But let me know you more than me know them. As them judges and we is me. You and we. You and me. So it is so. And so that, allow haste his passage and grant us the days and nights, of time’s bountiful harvest.
- kimmel 9:18 PM