Come To The Root Of The Root

People Who Repress Desires Often Turn, Suddenly, Into Hypocrites.

When You Resolve To Become Pious, The Devil In Your Nature Cries Out At You, "tread Not Those Paths, O Confused One; Distress And Poverty Will Overcome You. You Will Be Despised, Let Down By Friends, You Will Regret It." Dread Of The Devil Has Bound Their Souls; The Cries Of The Devil Are The Drover Of The Damned; The Call Of The Lord Is A Guardian Of The Saints.

Move, But Don't Move The Way Fear Makes You Move.

My Head Is Bursting With The Joy Of The Unknown. My Heart Is Expanding A Thousand Fold.

In Winter The Bare Boughs That Seem To Sleep Work Covertly, Preparing For Their Spring.