𝗚𝘂𝗮𝗿𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁, 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗼 𝗳𝗹𝗼𝘄𝘀 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗶𝘁.”

 

Deep within the quiet chest,

A river starts its winding quest.

Not made of water, nor of stone,

But seeds of thought that you have sown.

 

​The words you speak, the paths you tread,

The dreams you harbor in your bed,

Are but the ripples, wide and bright,

Of a hidden wellspring, kept from light.

 

​Why the Gates Must Stand

​If bitterness begins to seep,

The harvest will be hard to reap.

But if the source is clear and true,

The world reflects that light in you.

 

​Watch the gates: What enters in?

​Check the tides: Where thoughts begin.

​Tend the soil: Keep virtues near.

​Calm the storms: Of doubt and fear.

​For every act, both great and small,

Is written first behind the wall.

 

So keep the center, pure and free—

As goes the heart, so goes the tree.