Beauty Is The Garden Scent Of Roses,

When A Man Makes Up A Story For His Child, He Becomes A Father And A Child Together, Listening.

Be Quiet Now And Wait. It May Be That The Ocean One, The One We Desire So To Move Into And Become, Desires Us Out Here On Land A Little Longer, Going Our Sundry Roads To The Shore.

Last Night I Begged The Wise One To Tell Me The Secret Of The World. Gently, Gently, He Whispered, "be Quiet, The Secret Cannot Be Spoken, It Is Wrapped In Silence."

All Language Is A Longing For Home.

Play The Flute Of Felicity! You, Yourself, Are The Melody.