Clouds

grow heavy; thunder goes.

Rain drives in from the east, its patter

falls on the sides of the houses. Rain can be destructive,

wiping out boundary marks. But the soil needs care — ecstatic love

has sprouts now, and renunciation. Let the rain feed both.

Only the farmer with intelligence actually brings

his harvest back to his farmyard. He will fill

the granary bins, and feed both the

wise men and the

saints.

 

Kabir