There is a green and dark warmth of a spiral which goes into nothing. There is a blue and white ocean which spins itself into the darkness. There is a lonely tree which is dripping with blood. One shall cut the Gordian knot with the simple knife of trust. For is mystery here not greater than knowledge for those who are mortal upon the crust of the earth? Only the fool shall answer otherwise. Being still and seeing the present and knowing its joy is stronger than all the fears of the painters with their gloomy vision of Hades, and their sad waterways with the pearl colors and the silver paint patterns which are drying themselves upon the rocks again. For the knight I saw in the silver snow did walk back humbly from the crusade knowing that he is a fool; the quest for power for the sake of power is vanity, and falsehood, and death, and also madness. The queen shall play her cards softly upon the game of life, and in her great gamble there is wisdom. For she is not the queen of the flesh upon the earth but greatly of her own heart she is its master. For the pain and the curse of Atlas is like the game she plays and yet she has mastered it and suffers not a curse at all. For she is Alexander by the Gordian knot, and she has mastered herself by her simple trust and her focus upon the discipline which she has upon her mind, and so greatly it is there in the foundations of her character. And for this we shall rejoice, with the cup of water in the heat of the morning day.