Remember. The Way You Make Love Is

Oh, Bird Of My Soul, Fly Away Now, For I Possess A Hundred Fortified Towers.

Reason Is The Shadow Cast By God; God Is The Sun.

God Picks Up The Reed-flute World And Blows. Each Note Is A Need Coming Through One Of Us, A Passion, A Longing Pain. Remember The Lips Where The Wind-breath Originated, And Let Your Note Be Clear. Don't Try To End It. Be Your Note.

Let The Waters Settle And You Will See The Moon And The Stars Mirrored In Your Own Being.

Let The Beauty We Love Do What We Do.