In the beginning of time, there rose from the churning of God's <br />dream two women. One is the dancer at the court of paradise, the <br />desired of men, she who laughs and plucks the minds of the wise <br />from their cold meditations and of fools from their emptiness; and <br />scatters them like seeds with careless hands in the extravagant <br />winds of March, in the flowering frenzy of May. <br />The other is the crowned queen of heaven, the mother, throned <br />on the fullness of golden autumn; she who in the harvest-time <br />brings straying hearts to the smile sweet as tears, the beauty deep <br />as the sea of silence, -brings them to the temple of the Unknown, <br />at the holy confluence of Life and Death.<br /><br />Sir Rabindranath Tagore<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lover-s-gifts-liv-in-the-beginning-of-time-2/
