Purify Yourself From The Attributes Of Self,

No Longer A Stranger, You Listen All Day To These Crazy Love-words. Like A Bee You Fill Hundreds Of Homes With Honey, Though Yours Is A Long Flight From Here.

I Am The Dust In The Sunlight, I Am The Ball Of The Sun . . . I Am The Mist Of Morning, The Breath Of Evening . . . . I Am The Spark In The Stone, The Gleam Of Gold In The Metal . . . . The Rose And The Nightingale Drunk With Its Fragrance. I Am The Chain Of Being, The Circle Of The Spheres, The Scale Of Creation, The Rise And The Fall. I Am What Is And Is Not . . . I Am The Soul In All.

When Inward Tenderness Finds The Secret Hurt, Pain Itself Will Crack The Rock And Ah! Let The Soul Emerge.

Free Of Who I Was, Free Of Presence, Free Of Dangerous Fear, Hope, Free Of Mountainous Wanting.

The Gates Made Of Light Swing Open. You See In.