Unless There Is A Spiritual Renaissance, The

Like The Bee, We Distill Poison From Honey For Our Self-defense--what Happens To The Bee If It Uses Its Sting Is Well Known.

Isn't The Fulfillment Of Our Duty Towards Our Neighbor An Expression Of Deepest Desire?

We All Have Within Us A Center Of Stillness Surrounded By Silence.

There Is A Point At Which Everything Becomes Simple And There Is No Longer Any Question Of Choice, Because All You Have Staked Will Be Lost If You Look Back. Life's Point Of No Return.

You Wake From Dreams Of Doom And--for A Moment--you Know: Beyond All The Noise And The Gestures, The Only Real Thing, Love's Calm Unwavering Flame In The Half-light Of An Early Dawn.