THEY KNEW the way and went to seek you along the narrow lane, but I wandered abroad into the night for I was ignorant. I was not schooled enough to be afraid of you in the dark, therefore I came upon your doorstep unaware. The wise rebuked me and bade me be gone, for I had not come by the lane. I turned away in doubt, but you held me fast, and their scolding became louder every day.
CHILD, HOW happy you are sitting in the dust, playing with a broken twig all the morning. I smile at your play with that little bit of a broken twig. I am busy with my accounts, adding up figures by the hour. Perhaps you glance at me and think, 'What a stupid game to spoil your morning with!' Child, I have forgotten the art of being absorbed in sticks and mud pies. I seek out costly playthings, and gather lumps of gold and silver. With whatever you find you create your glad games, I spend both my time and my strength over things I never can obtain. In my frail canoe I struggle to cross the sea of desire, and forget that I too am playing a game.
