紫微星会

Lay down arms, cultivate letters; the Purple Star shines bright. A common man bears responsibility, one word makes him sovereign. No king, no emperor, yet he settles the world—the first to come from the fields.

Strange arts slay without a blade; lay down arms and the sun and moon rise high. Sages of three faiths dwell together—how can demons escape? The sage star appears in the south; from the fields a new Washington arises. This one is the Purple Star; holding the middle, he settles the realm.

He is neither monk nor priest; the True Buddha dwells not in temples. He holds Maitreya's primal teaching. The coming teacher descends—not in mansions or palaces, but in a humble cottage, scattering gold.