From the layers of this world and the fabric of this town let me stand by the sweet light. By the red door and the unfolding chamber there is the sound of the waters and of the ice. Floating on the heavens is a raft, and sleeping in the ocean is the cup of life which washes ashore into this the mystic vine, and to the grass of the beautiful countryside. My mind is drenched in the light of forever. The soil of the ground is too sacred to touch. The lips of the mind is too perfect to kiss. And the eye of the spirit is too clear to not give love. I find all this, upon these ancient streets of this little town of the valley, and in the waters of things pure.