A powerful venom slips into and out of the mind; we are not sleeping. There are noises and a voice and, alert, we are open to a rage unsuspected even when we raged. It is like a beautiful commandment that fills us with hope, with abundance when we surrender to its taste. It fits into thin-folds of our mind and hides until it hears a secret word passed through the streets by the secret people. And so the venom drops and expands rapidly through the mind, driving out the deer and meadows that had filled the memory in the off-day. Snakes and enraged genie swirl through the mind. We are driven to the desire to destroy those who taunt us; those who we feel hold some secret message that contains the key to happiness. Or, the key to our eternity. Or, the key to our illusions. While we are intoxicated we are in pain and driven into the grove of White Oak trees where there is spirited singing. They tell us then, "do not move rapidly; let the blood cool down."