Be Occupied, Then, With What You Really

All The World Loves You, But You Are Nowhere To Be Found, Hidden And Yet . . . Completely Obvious!

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.

Do Not Grieve Over Any Joy That Has Gone Forever, For It Will Return To You In Another Form, Know That For Sure.

For Sixty Years I Have Been Forgetful Every Minute, But Not For A Second Has This Flowing Toward Me Stopped Or Slowed.

You Transform All Those Who Are Touched By You.