His thick hair and scraggy neck gave witness of unreadiness and through his misty eyeglasses weak eyes seemed up pleading. MY FATHER GAVE ME SEEDS TO SOW. A long search from darkish eyes, a riddling sentence to be woven and woven on the church's looms. Secrets, silent, stony sit in the dim palaces of both our hearts: insider secrets weary of their tyranny: tyrants, ready to be dethroned.