The Heart The Heart The

The Stallion And His Mare, Unbridled, With Arrow-pattern, Are Worked On. The Blue Cloth Before The Door Of Religion And Inspiration.

Luminous, Unfearful; High-priestesses, Our Fervour Shall Banish All Evil.

I Fear No Man, No Woman; Flower Does Not Fear Bird, Insect Nor Adder.

(those Women Whom The Distaff No Longer Claims Nor Spun Cloth) Driven Made, Mad, Mad By Bacchus.

The Things I Have Are Nameless, Old And True; They May Not Be Named; Few May Live And Know.