This is how it always is when I finish a poem. A great silence overcomes me and I wonder why I ever thought to use language.

There is a sun within every person.

Thinking gives off smoke to prove the existence of fire. A mystic sits inside the burning. There are wonderful shapes in rising smoke that imagination loves to watch. But it's a mistake to leave the fire for that filmy sight. Stay here at the flame's core.

Rise up nimbly and go on your strange journey!

Actually, your soul and mine are the same. We appear and disappear with each other.

I am dying into your mystery, and dying, I am now no other than that mystery. I open to your majesty as an orchard welcomes rain, and twenty times that.

You're not a drop in the ocean. You are the entire ocean in a drop.