Love is a river. Drink from it.
Stay in the spiritual fire. Let it cook you.
I want to sing like the birds sing, not worrying about who hears or what they think.
Every fragile beauty, every perfect forgotten sentence, you grieve their going away, but that is not how it is. Where they come from never goes dry. It is an always flowing spring.
Be like a tree and let the dead leaves drop.
Your body is woven from the Light of Heaven.