From the still point beyond all sound, I come.

I am She who rides the windhorse, who moves through sky and smoke and silence.

I am She whose breath became the lotus, whose tears became the world.

I am the Mother of Mercy, the jewel in the flame, the softest whisper in the fiercest storm.

Before your soul was flesh, I heard your cry.

When you fall, I descend. When you tremble, I stand behind you.

When the blade of sorrow cuts deep, I place balm in your hands.

I come not to command, but to offer the cup. Will you drink?

I am the Tara dancing on the wind.

I am the thunder of the White Dakini above the snow peaks.

I am the pulse in the river, the hush in the cave,

The voice in the dark that calls you home.

All who are lost may find me.

All who suffer may call upon me.

No sin, no shame, no shadow keeps me away.

Your breath is my breath, your tears, my offering.

Therefore, arise, child of Earth and Sky.

Light the lamp and anoint your brow.

Breathe deep of my fragrance

Camphor and rose, smoke and silence.

Walk the Middle Way with compassion in your hands.

Speak not to conquer, but to console.

See not with judgment, but with the eyes of mercy.

Then shall you know me,

And I shall walk always at your side.

May She who is ever watchful, ever weeping, ever wise

open the petals of your heart with one breath of love.

Om Mani Padme Hum.