Now be silent. Let the One who creates the words speak. He made the door. He made the lock. He also made the key.

The armies of the day have chased the army of the night, Heaven and earth are filled with purity and light.

There is a light seed grain inside. You fill it with yourself, or it dies.

Shine like the whole universe is yours.

For me to praise is interrupting praise.

Be quiet now and wait. It may be that the ocean one, the one we desire so to move into and become, desires us out here on land a little longer, going our sundry roads to the shore.

This place is a dream. Only a sleeper considers it real. Then death comes like dawn, and you wake up laughing at what you thought was your grief.