Our actions are the prayer, unceasing,
Of love’s creation which is sought-
New things arising every moment,
From the past and future wrought.

Midst all those, in good and evil,
We must avoid being caught-
Imprisoned by our own mind’s children,
All our strivings come to naught.

When our attention sharp and true is,
Unwavering hours of peace are bought-
Be careful when you once un-sheathe it,
The terrible, swift sword of thought.