I do not know who lives here in my chest, or why the smile comes. I am not myself, more the bare green knob of a rose that lost every leaf and petal to the morning wind.
Love opens my chest, and thought returns to its confines.
Sometimes we plan a trip to one place, but something takes us to another
Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love. It will not lead you astray.
The soul is here for its own joy.
Come, even if you have broken your vow one thousand times, come, yet again, come, come.