the sea to remain confined to its cradle and summer to grow wheat and finally directs the course of the rivers. That force that separated the world from chaos and forced the whole universe to be born.
Mother, do you really believe that it is man's will that moves creation? I know instead that everything that exists in this world is ruled by Love, and that only in its name do the stars shine in the sky.
Then you spoke to me of the wars that upset the world, of hunger and pestilence, and of all those evils for which there is no remedy. Yet, Mother, every man is a breath of fresh air, a question mark in the innumerable probabilities of creation. And those little cubs that the chicken devours are not the germ of the next life that will one day be reincarnated? And if I had been born, could I not have loved you?
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