Love Is The Only Flower That Grows

Like The Ocean Is Your God-self; It Remains For Ever Undefiled. And Like The Ether It Lifts But The Winged. Even Like The Sun Is Your God-self; It Knows Not The Ways Of The Mole Nor Seeks It The Holes Of The Serpent. But Your God-self Does Not Dwell Alone In Your Being. Much In You Is Still Man, And Much In You Is Not Yet Man, But A Shapeless Pigmy That Walks Asleep In The Mist Searching For Its Own Awakening.

But Let There Be Spaces In Your Togetherness And Let The Winds Of The Heavens Dance Between You. Love One Another But Make Not A Bond Of Love: Let It Rather Be A Moving Sea Between The Shores Of Your Souls.

Pity It Is We Drowse Too Soon Pity It Is We Fall Asleep Ere Our Song Encompass The Height Ere Our Hand Inherit The Deep

To Judge You By Your Failures Is To Cast Blame Upon The Seasons For Their Inconstancy.

The Sun Teaches To All Things That Grow Their Longing For The Light. But It Is Night That Raises Them To The Stars.