An excerpt from the fictional tales of The Wandering Monk.
Running from distress,
we fall, spilling the poison.
Now fill with what’s good.
(in other words)
Many are not drawn to the spiritual life by way of a resplendent star lighting their path. Nay, many feel the hot flames licking their heels and thus run from the torment. But when fleeing, stumble, and are consumed by fire. Yet what burns is not the eternal essence within, but the toxicity that caused such pain. Now reborn from the ashes, free of confusion, look to the light, nourishing with wholesome rays.