There is a man who sits on the top of the highest peak;
The milky clouds wrap him up; the rosy racks hedge him in.
He holds the fragrance of virtue, wishing to transmit it to folks,
But the path is long—it's hard to go so far away into the world.
In his heart, full of melancholy, suspicion and doubt also hide;
In years already old, alas, he has accomplished not a thing.
A crowd moans ‘oh-oh’ and laughs ‘ha-ha’ at such a rattlebrain
Who stands still alone, remaining to be firm in his ‘allegiance.'
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Ron
Be true to your own heart....what is virtue if it does not sit comfortably within our own skin?
Diana....