The time is soon coming,
If it hasn't come already,
When you will be torn from all your comforts,
From all that is familiar,
And exiled into a strange land.
It is inevitable.
And all those who will not suffer themselves
To be thus exiled will die the death
Of proving beyond doubt
That the thing they always feared they were
Is who they truly are.
That it was for this time, for this reason
That you were born into the world.
For our inheritance is not unto comfort, but adventure.
And the greatest and last adventure of them all
Lies not in things you can achieve,
But is found behind the fearful curtain
Of things you cannot see.
It is only there that you can know your weakness
And it is only in weakness that you can be made strong.
And only when you thus discover
That you are nothing,
That you are small,
Can you find out
So don't complain
When they bind you hand and foot
And carry you where you would not.
For exile is only the beginning.