This outward spring and garden are a reflection of the inward garden.
We can't find the truth listening to our own voice's echo. We can find ourselves only in someone's mirror
Deep in our Hearts, the Light of Heaven is shining.
I was a tiny bug. Now a mountain. I was left behind. Now honored at the head. You healed my wounded hunger and anger, and made me a poet who sings about joy.
What was said to the rose that made it open, was said to me, here in my chest.
I am so small I can hardly be seen. How can this great love be inside me? Look at your eyes. They are small, but they see enormous things.