I remember being fed by strangers as I bicycled by myself far from home. It was in campgrounds after being alone on the road all day. Did they know that three decades later I would think of them when I read...
THE PAST'S LIPS ARE NOT DECEASED
Why not look at the beauty that your
memory holds,
so nourishing that light can be.
The past's lips are not
deceased.
Let them comfort you
if they
can.
Kabir
