I am in the House of Mercy, and my heart is a place of prayer.

Be melting snow. Wash yourself of yourself.

Let your Teacher be Love itself.

Discard yourself and thereby regain yourself. Spread the trap of humility and ensnare love.

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.

Do you pay regular visits to yourself? Don't argue or answer rationally. Let us die, and dying, reply.

You've seen my descent, now watch my rising.