I
think of my people day and night. I say their names over and over.
My treasury is open but no one
brings carts to take from it. I say, “Dig!” but no one bothers.
My
people do not come to me of their own accord; it is I who seek and bring them to
me.
All that is seen is my form: ant,
fly, prince, and pauper
However distant my people may be, I
draw them to me just as we pull a bird to us with a string tied to its foot