Silence is the root of everything. If you spiral into its void a hundred voices will thunder messages you long to hear.
Either give me more wine or leave me alone.
Stop looking for something out there and begin seeing within.
I become a waterwheel, turning and tasting you, as long as water moves.
Your hand opens and closes and opens and closes. If it were always a fist or always stretched open, you would be paralyzed.
When you do things from your soul, you feel a river moving in you, a joy.