We Cannot Steal The Fire. We Must

There Comes A Holy And Transparent Time When Every Touch Of Beauty Opens The Heart To Tears. This Is The Time The Beloved Of Heaven Is Brought Tenderly On Earth. This Is The Time Of The Opening Of The Rose.

Watch For All That Beauty Reflecting From You And Sing A Love Song To Your Existence.

A Seeker Of Truth Looks Beyond The Apparent And Contemplates The Hidden.

God Picks Up The Reed-flute World And Blows. Each Note Is A Need Coming Through One Of Us, A Passion, A Longing Pain. Remember The Lips Where The Wind-breath Originated, And Let Your Note Be Clear. Don't Try To End It. Be Your Note.

Sorrows Are The Rags Of Old Clothes And Jackets That Serve To Cover, And Then Are Taken Off. That Undressing, And The Beautiful Naked Body Underneath, Is The Sweetness That Comes After Grief.