I am not from east or west not up from the ground or out of the ocean my place is placeless a trace of the traceless I belong to the beloved

I will be waiting here.... For your silence to break, For your soul to shake, For your love to wake!

Remember God so much that you are forgotten. Let the caller and the called disappear; be lost in the Call.

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.

Remember, the entrance door to the sanctuary is inside you.

The only lasting beauty is the beauty of the heart

If these poems repeat themselves, then so does Spring.