The Beloved is with you in the midst of your seeking! He holds your hand wherever you wander.
I hear a drum in my soul's ear coming from the depth of the stars.
I, you, he, she, we In the garden of mystic lovers, these are not true distinctions.
Ecstatic Love is an ocean, and the Milky Way is a flake of foam floating on it.
Don't grieve. Anything you lose comes round in another form.
Thankfulness brings you to the place where the Beloved lives.