Look:
these peoples are used to being laid waste —
they pitch their tents across the plain, out to the horizon,
and they lie down under the sun to wait for the Tartar.
What are they doing in their prostration?
We are listening to the grass grow,
it grows inside us,
it lacks for neither rain nor fertile soil.
We Are Wellspring.
From us flow the gifts
and the light.
We Are Wellspring, p. 9