My place is placeless, a trace of the traceless.
In the slaughterhouse of love, they kill only the best, none of the weak or deformed. Don't run away from this dying. Whoever's not killed for love is dead meat.
You live in my heart where no one sees you but I do. That vision becomes this art.
When you seek Love with all your Heart, you shall find its echoes in the universe.
Very little grows on jagged rock. Be ground. Be crumbled, so wildflowers will come up where you are.
That which is false troubles the heart, but truth brings joyous tranquility.