The salt gives of itself,
accepting its modest part,
and knowing that its culinary duty
is not to dominate,
but to enhance.
Its freedom is generous,
it is there for the other;
profligate as it imparts its saltiness.
The master gathers his followers;
calls them salt,
at large upon earth.
The disciple pours out self recklessly,
to enhance the justice,
to build the peace;
knowing that hope is an elusive costly thing,
and that the apparently foolish vision
of a world seasoned and shaped by love,
was never imagined.
© Ken Rookes 2014
No comments:
Post a Comment