I don’t regret how much I love, and I avoid those who repent their passion.
He is a letter to everyone. You open it. It says, Live.
If these poems repeat themselves, then so does Spring.
If you wish for light, Be ready to receive light.
You left ground and sky weeping, mind and soul full of grief. No one can take your place in existence, or in absence. Both mourn, the angels, the prophets, and this sadness I feel has taken from me the taste of language, so that I cannot say the flavor of my being apart.
What does this patch-sewing mean you ask? Eating and drinking. The heavy cloak of the body is always getting torn. You patch it with food and other ego-satisfactions.