What I Do . . . The

Eat Of My Deep Earth, Drink Of My Living Streams, For I Am Your Mother. Your Heart Is My Wild Drum, Your Breath My Eternal Song. If You Would Live, Dance With Me!

Become My Friend And You Embrace A Nightmare.

The World Is Simple, I Think, In Its Essence. Life, Death, Love, Hate. Desire, Fulfillment. Magic.

Hope Is Such A Tenuous Quality. To Feel It And Then To Be Denied What One Most Longs For ... Better, Surely, Not To Hope At All, Than To Open The Heart To A Hope That Is Impossible.

For Indeed You Have A Choice. You Can Flee And Hide, And Wait To Be Found. You Can Live Out Your Days In Terror, Without Meaning. Or You Can Take The Harder Choice, And You Can Save Them.