Wisdom is like the rain. Its source is limitless, but it comes down according to the season.
Every moment I shape my destiny with a chisel - I am the carpenter of my own soul.
This mirror inside me shows. I can’t say what, but I can’t not know. I run from body. I run from spirit. I do not belong anywhere.
The source of now is here.
The radiant one in me has never said a word.
If you wish mercy, show mercy to the weak.