No Prayer Is Complete Without Presence.

We Are All The Same Listen To The Reeds As They Sway Apart; Hear Them Speak Of Lost Friends. At Birth, You Were Cut From Your Bed, Crying And Grasping In Separation. Everyone Listens, Knowing Your Song. You Yearn For Others Who Know Your Name, And The Words To Your Lament. We Are All The Same, All The Same, Longing To Find Our Way Back; Back To The One, Back To The Only One.

You Are Quaffing Drink From A Hundred Fountains: Whenever Any Of These Hundred Yields Less, Your Pleasure Is Diminished. But When The Sublime Fountain Gushes From Within You, No Longer Need You Steal From The Other Fountains.

We Owe Thankfulness To God, Not Sour Faces.

Neither This Body Am I, Nor Soul, Nor These Fleeting Images Passing By, Nor Concepts And Thoughts, Mental Images, Nor Yet Sentiments And The Psyche's Labyrinth. Who Then Am I? A Consciousness Without Origin, Not Born In Time, Nor Begotten Here Below. I Am That Which Was, Is And Ever Shall Be, A Jewel In The Crown Of The Divine Self, A Star In The Firmament Of The Luminous One.

Oh You, Unceasing Sun, To Me Your Particles Communicate The Luminous Essence Of God, Are You Our God? I Do Not Know. Intoxicated, I Say Nought, Bewitched By The Magic Potion. I Cannot Differentiate Between My Drunk And Sober State.