oh master of the garden! I see your dark tree from afar in the shimmering sun. My street leads to the valleys where men live. I am a wandering beggar.
And I remain silent.

Killing off would-be prophets is a gain for the people. If they want murder, then may they kill their false prophets. If the mouth of the Gods remains silent, then each can listen to his own speech. He who loves the people remains silent. If only false teachers teach, the people will kill the false teachers, and will fall into the truth even on the way of their sins. Only after the darkest night will it be day: So cover the lights and remain silent so that the night will become dark and noiseless. The sun rises without our help. Only he who knows the darkest error knows what light is.

oh master of the garden, your magical grove shone to me from afar.
I venerate your deceptive mantle, you father of all will,o’,the,wisps.

I continue on my way; accompanied by a finely polished piece of steel, hardened in ten fires, stowed safely in my robe. Secretly; I wear chain mail under my coat. Overnight I became fond of serpents, and I solved their riddle. I sit down next to them on the hot stones lying by the wayside. I know how to catch them cunningly and cruelly; those cold devils that prick the heel of the unsuspecting. I became their friend and played a softly toned flute. But I decorate my cave with their dazzling skins. As I walked on my way; I came to a red rock on which a great iridescent serpent lay: Since I had now learned magic from DIAHMON, I took out my flute again and played a sweet magical song to make her believe that she was my soul. When she was sufficiently enchanted,

I spoke to her: “My sister, my soul, what do you say?” But she spoke, flattered and therefore
tolerantly: “I let grass grow over everything that you do.” ~Carl Jung, Red Book, Pages 316-317.