Golden lines run beneath your skin,
directing and yearning; we must have melted the ore,
for now the treasure runs like laughter in a child's lips,
the stream billows like a flag in the wind,
the lily entices the air and is moved.
Movement becomes dance,
one heart is gone and fills the soul,
the emptiness pools gold.
In martial practice, play push-hands
and greet what arrives, escort what leaves,
rush upon loss of contact.
Learn to play thus, learn to kiss.
Learn to love and teach the body all
the golden pathways in the skin.