He told me to be the embodiment of the joy He can bring. To pull him out of myself, to pull him into others.
I am Raised up and I will not reject the flute, O ruler of my mind. Look, he stirs me up, Euhoi, the ivy now whirls me round in Bacchic Contest.
I feel like I have all the supplies (I know that with more practice and devotion, this is where my love affair with dance is going), but the tools and blueprints are missing. But what Dionysos wants, he can have. How do you, my friends, show your joy?