Illuminated in the mist, the Spirit opens her wings to take flight. She moves with silent grace into the hearts of man. She awakens our lips that they may know and speak the truth of our heart. She surrenders the mind, that it may know its higher embodiment and reach to that ascent.
She, the Spirit, flurries her wings in each waking moment, that we may taste the nectar that such a moment brings.
Mostly, her Spirit, the holiness of Spirit within, shines with her startling brightness, her purest form of love, that transforms everything that it touches. It melts the snowcap of the mountain, turning it to the golden peak of the realized sun, so that its rivers may run and flow with this pure gold of man's realized Self. This Spirit touches the soul and heart with love—that cascades to run as a thousand rivers outstretched to reach even the emptiest places.
All of this occurs so that the earth—of man's demise—may be renewed, and it may receive the Spirit, the truth, that each man and woman were born to come to know and fully embrace.