There must come a winter for every seed. There must come that which protects and shields the seed toward spring, that which indeed gives its life and absorbs the hatred of winter for life, that mysterious essence which is the sacrificial aspect of life. It made the seed possible. It keeps the seed growing in the hidden ways of winter. It takes upon its heart the pangs of Christ-birth, the furor of all the Herods who represent that part of the race which bitterly had died, which had become death incarnate. She understood. He did not speak of such things. They must not be spoken within the seed. But every particle of it must know from within, in the silence.
Prayer is not a solo art form:
for, we never pray alone;
all prayers offered to the Beloved
by whatever Name, whatever form,
Meet in the Holy Tabernacle on high,
lifting the hearts, needs, and hopes
of myriad souls. . . .
United in prayer and purpose, individuals
from every nation
sowing sacred seeds of peace,
truth and love,
Create the power to usher in the New Dawn.
Let us move inexorably onward toward
the divinization of planet Earth.