the graceful flowing of the waters of divine poetry
We cause the river of inspiration to enter the artist in joyous swirls and fountains
We cause the waves of bliss to take form within the heart, and emerge as tales of love.

Our holy places on earth are small grottoes of strong light and shade
Where the poet may sit and glide off into blue skies
Overgrown banks of streams, full with grass and wild-flowers
The moss-covered rocks beneath the waterfall
Small places where the body may be left
While the soul flies into the heavens.

I am seen in art nouveau waters, and the golden lakes on Japanese screens
The scroll whose hidden treasure lies in a small cove
The beautiful place in the middle of a field, where a cluster of white flowers grows
Where birds and animals flock by nature, to rest in the warm breezes and dewdrops.

To those on the winding path of the spirit I say:
I am no guide to the top of the snowy mountains
My home is amid peace and beauty, the swirling of water and music
I work with those who wish to give to the world
Who return from the heights or who have not begun their journey
Who give their love to the world and not to distant gods.

To them we give the gift
Of lovely speech and beautiful voice
Ideas which do no hesitate, but dance out into the world
Waves of creativity which have only need of media for expression
Music and dance which occur spontaneously and are perfect

We give patience to the potter, a keen eye to the artist
We form the words of affection in the mouth of the lover
We give rhythm and melody to the musician, so that he does not play
But acts as a channel for the music of the universe.

We have no taste for bickering gods who rule the skies
Nor those so high that they do not wish to communicate
My love is grace and beauty, the joys of creation
I flow in the river, and down the waterfall
Rushing in whirlpools, and rising slowly in shining bubbles
To alight besides a lone musician
To fill him with the love and grace of the universe.