She has not arrived, though Her signs surround me. Again I practise waiting. In this quiet place, wings folded neatly, walking boots polished bright, I hear a quiet echo on the breeze. "Surrender!" she whispers, "Surrender!" I am not good at this. "Surrender!" I sit uncomfortably on a small stool with no back. I can't sit like this forever. "Surrender!" How many times can I be given a lesson and still resist learning? This presence is her gift.
I inhale deeply and smell the honey sweet pollen of a thousand blooms.
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