When the Greeks desired to construct a bridge across a stream, they begged the river deity to pardon this deed of man for which they atoned by offering up to him a sacrificial libation of wine. In ancient German lands, an offense against a living tree was expiated by the shedding of the offender’s blood. Today’s mankind sees only childish superstition in those who attend to the planetary currents. He forgets that the interpreting of apparitions was a way of scattering blooms around the tree of an inner life, which shelters a deeper knowledge than all of science: the knowledge of the world-weaving power of an all-embracing love. Only when this love has been renewed in mankind will the wounds inflicted by the matricidal spirit be healed.

Penetrate deep mountain caverns, Follow clouds towards the heavens: Muses call, to stream and valley, Many a thousand times, oh, many. As soon as fresh flowers meet the eye, New songs our efforts earn: And though fleeting time goes by, The seasons they return.