Long ago I had a little torch; it was a plaything of my mind. I toyed with it. A tiptoe I would work it, peering into dark, secret corners of my thoughts. In its gleam I would capture glimpses, in dark mental waters, of many little golden minnows of creative ideas.
I caught some of them, and used them for bait to catch bigger denizens of my consciousness. But my hook was small, and many large sh of inspiration got away.
Now I carry a searchlight, and no hook and line, but a net purchased with the precious, gold‐spun dreams of increasing understanding. With my large net of woven light, I will sweep the very ocean oor for Thy wisdom. Ah! My expanding net will encompass all Thy ocean! I will haul to myself all the goodness, golden deeds, and drops of inspiration—yes, too, Thy very Self!—and make all that my own.