Praises to those who can wait.
For theirs is the future.
They who stand facing the mountain and
   do not draw back
Will mount to its summit.

For the river that winds its way to the sea
   has a hope
Of releasing its longings amid the breakers
   of ocean.
Thus does the tree hope that sends a branch
   up into the sky
For the palm of the sun to touch it when
   the given day comes.

Therefore we love the morning star as the
   assurance of dawn.
The nightingale’s love song as the longings
   of motherhood.
The plashing of springs as the pulsing of
   realized dream.
Streams carving the beds of rivers to come
Without growing weary.
All who make their covenant of longing and
   hope within existence,
For they are the zealots of the yearning.

Therefore envigor the burden of the future
Just as the waves envigor the rocks of the
And like to the white-hot iron the smith-
   shapes to his will,
Fashion and shape the dreams of trust.
Desolation will not vanish out of
   the Negev
Ere it vanishes out of the hearts.



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