There is my body, in it an ocean formed of his glory, all the creation, all the universes, all the galaxies, are lost in it.

One drop of that ocean is Hope, and the rest is fear.

Your depression is connected to your insolence and refusal to praise.

When one sense perceives the hidden, the invisible world becomes apparent to the whole.

Love comes with a knife, not some shy question, and not with fears for its reputation!

I turn all thorn then, but you come back again and make my thorniness fragrant and pink and petaled.

THIS TORTURE Why should we tell you our love stories when you spill them together like blood in the dirt? Love is a pearl lost on the ocean floor, or a fire we can’t see, but how does saying that push us through the top of the head into the light above the head? Love is not an iron pot, so this boiling energy won’t help. Soul, heart, self. Beyond and within those is one saying, How long before I’m free of this torture!