If We Were To All Sit In

She Danced The Dance Of Flames And Fire, And The Dance Of Swords And Spears; She Danced The Dance Of Stars And The Dance Of Space, And Then She Danced The Dance Of Flowers In The Wind.

Like Sheaves Of Corn It Gathers You Unto Itself. It Threshes You To Make You Naked. It Sifts You To Free You From Your Husks. It Grinds You To Whiteness. It Kneads You Until You Are Pliant. And Then It Assigns You To Its Sacred Fire, That You May Become Sacred Bread For God's Sacred Feast. All These Things Shall Love Do Unto You That You May Know The Secrets Of Your Heart, And In That Knowledge Become A Fragment Of Life's Heart.

Your House Is Your Larger Body.

When You Are Sorrowful Look Again In Your Heart, And You Shall See That In Truth You Are Weeping For That Which Has Been Your Delight. Some Of You Say, "joy Is Greater Than Sorrow," And Others Say, "nay, Sorrow Is The Greater." But I Say Unto You, They Are Inseparable. Together They Come, And When One Sits Alone With You At Your Board, Remember That The Other Is Asleep Upon Your Bed. Verily You Are Suspended Like Scales Between Your Sorrow And Your Joy.

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.