The Soul Unfolds Itself, Like A Lotus

Like The Ocean Is Your God-self; It Remains For Ever Undefiled. And Like The Ether It Lifts But The Winged. Even Like The Sun Is Your God-self; It Knows Not The Ways Of The Mole Nor Seeks It The Holes Of The Serpent. But Your God-self Does Not Dwell Alone In Your Being. Much In You Is Still Man, And Much In You Is Not Yet Man, But A Shapeless Pigmy That Walks Asleep In The Mist Searching For Its Own Awakening.

You Pray In Your Distress And In Your Need; Would That You Might Also Pray In The Fullness Of Your Joy And In Your Days Of Abundance.

But You Who Walk Facing The Sun, What Images Drawn On The Earth Can Hold You?

I Had A Second Birth When My Soul And My Body Loved One Another And Were Married.

The Creator Gives No Heed To The Critic Unless He Becomes A Barren Inventor.