Lovers don't finally meet somewhere. They're in each other all along.
You live in my heart where no one sees you but I do. That vision becomes this art.
Your hand opens and closes, opens and closes. If it were always a fist or always stretched open, you would be paralysed. Your deepest presence is in every small contracting and expanding, the two as beautifully balanced and coordinated as birds' wings.
I have found the heart and will never leave This house of light.
Pain is a treasure, for it contains mercies.
Smiles come best from those who weep.