Break it to pieces and wash away the dust that remains, watch and observe and the stains will grow and soon, too soon, it is dirty and it clumps as before. Carefully now, repeat, break and wash, and ever more it will seem to be forever. But the consequence of fatigue from the never-ending task is the likelihood of an end, an end that is far better than the consequence of letting the dirt amass into the mountain within, that it blocks out the light of light, and that we stand in the darkness, wishing for light when we know that we are the reason for our own faults and failures. Think and rethink, the sore heart and the crushed fantasies will give rise to the clean crystal place,
fit for the King.
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