In your beauty, how to make poems.
I've brought you a mirror. Look at yourself and remember me.
We are all bathed in the same light.
Whatever sorrow shakes from your heart, far better things will take their place.
if i can only recount the story of my life right out of my body flames will grow
Inside the Great Mystery that is, we don't really own anything. What is this competition we feel then, before we go, one at a time, through the same gate?