Hunger for truth, let it drive you wild. Lost child in the Garden, which flower blooms for you? Scent intoxicating, liberating, these are the night-blooming flowers. Thus, few see them. Keep awake. JAL, 4 - 30 - 03

This poem came to me while I was at work. The image of a dark haired magician appeared to me in a garden, holding his arms wide, with a flower in one hand, telling me the above words. (I don't know how I knew he was a magician, I just knew...) I did not know until later this 'magician' is really an aspect of myself. I am the figure in the moonlight, a lost garden-wanderer holding a bloom I am at first is not sure is mine. Only after a test of deep inhalation can I be sure. Then I want the mysteries, all of them, and all their layers. Experience alone yields proof.