The words Anchorite, Sentire, Master, Teacher, Biskop, Chanticleer, Priest:
Most of those sporting such a title are just peacocks.
The touchstone is this:
Hold them upside down over a cliff for a few hours.
If they don’t wet their pants maybe you found a real one.
(from the personal writings and poesies of Simeon of the Pillar, scribed in the more lettered hands of his fellow penitents: the Caliban Samael of Paridon, the blessed templar Ephraim of Mordentshire, and reverend brother Petru of Zhukar)
I went to sleep one night and I awoke the next ready to die, washed of fear, filled with deeper wisdom.
There is no secret - love, be loved. In my dreams, we were married. Morninglord, my lover and my beloved, I feel you making love to me: you are inside of me. Let none separate what you have joined together. Where I walk, you are with me. Without knowing it, I bring the dawn in my wake. Others bring it too - it shines through in their smiles of gratitude, of joy, of murth, of peace. Your rising light is like a drop in a still pool: one drop awakens the world to motion. From that drop, like waves, a thousand smiling suns awake.