The breath of the flute player: does it belong to the flute?

Put your thoughts to sleep, do not let them cast a shadow over the moon of your heart. Let go of thinking.

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

I died as a mineral and became a plant, I died as a plant and rose to animal, I died as an animal and I was Man. Why should I fear? When was I less by dying?

This poetry. I never know what I'm going to say. I don't plan it. When I'm outside the saying of it, I get very quiet and rarely speak at all.

Let soul speak with the silent articulation of a face.

Do thou smile like the rose at loss and gain; For the rose, though its petals be torn asunder, Still smiles on, and it is never cast down.