What is the worth of one’s tears? If mine come easily, does this mean that mine are worth less than others? What does one have to do in order to overcome one’s weaknesses? What does one have to do in order to realize that the world does not  revolve on one’s self? How much frustration could one handle? How much patience could one give? Why does the enlightened one always have to be the person to give in? Is the satisfaction of being an instrument really enough? This, everlasting fountain of love, what could one do when one does not feel the replenishment?

 Where does one go? Why does one continue to cling? Where does one get his source of hope? It gets really tiring to give, more so to forgive. When both cheeks are bruised, what is it that one could offer?

Love and faithfulness, how could someone unworthy of it be given the privilege to ask for it?