Each Day The First Day: Each Day

Those Who Invoke History Will Certainly Be Heard By History. And They Will Have To Accept Its Verdict.

So Rests The Sky Against The Earth. The Dark Still Tarn In The Lap Of The Forest. As A Husband Embraces His Wife's Body In Faithful Tenderness, So The Bare Ground And Trees Are Embraced By The Still, High, Light Of The Morning. I Feel An Ache Of Longing To Share In This Embrace, To Be United And Absorbed. A Longing Like Carnal Desire, But Directed Towards Earth, Water, Sky, And Returned By The Whispers Of The Trees, The Fragrance Of The Soil, The Caresses Of The Wind, The Embrace Of Water And Light. Content? No, No, No - But Refreshed, Rested - While Waiting.

You Take The Pen, And The Lines Dance. You Take The Flute And The Notes Shimmer. You Take The Brush, And The Colors Sing. So All Things Have Meaning And Beauty In That Space Beyond Time Where You Are. How, Then, Can I Hold Back Anything From You?

You Dare Your Yes - And Experience A Meaning...you Repeat Your Yes - And All Things Acquire A Meaning...when Everything Has A Meaning, How Can You Live Anything But A Yes.

You Are Merely The Lens In The Beam. You Can Only Receive, Give, And Possess The Light As The Lens Does. If You Seek Yourself, You Rob The Lens Of Its Transparency. You Will Know Life And Be Acknowledged By It According To Your Degree Of Transparency - Your Capacity, That Is, To Vanish As An End And Remain Purely As A Means.