The Strength of the Lonely
(What the Mendicant Said)
The moon's a monk, unmated,
Who walks his cell, the sky.
His strength is that of heaven-vowed men
Who all life's flames defy.
They turn to stars or shadows,
They go like snow or dew —
Leaving behind no sorrow —
Only the arching blue.
The moon's a monk, unmated,
Who walks his cell, the sky.
His strength is that of heaven-vowed men
Who all life's flames defy.
They turn to stars or shadows,
They go like snow or dew —
Leaving behind no sorrow —
Only the arching blue.
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