There is a basket of fresh bread on your head, yet you go door to door asking for crusts.
In the Friend-place nothing true can be said. Let Me Just Be Here.
O Love, O pure deep Love, be here, be now, be all.
Only love itself can explain love and lovers.
Love is that flame that once kindled burns everything, and only the mystery and the journey remain.
You are a volume in the divine book A mirror to the power that created the universe Whatever you want, ask it of yourself Whatever you’re looking for can only be found Inside of you