Suffering is a gift; in its hidden mercy

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.

Is your face a beautiful blossom or a sweet torture? I have no complaints but my heart is tempted to let you hear of its sorrows.

Know that the mirror of the heart is boundless. . . Here, opinions become silent, otherwise they will lead you into errors. . . for the heart is sacred - even more the heart is sacredness itself.

Be like a tree and let the dead leaves drop.

Your name is upon my tongue your image is in my sight your memory is in my heart where can I send these words that I write ?

Hungry, you're a dog, angry and bad-natured. having eaten your fill, you become a carcass; you lie down like a wall, senseless. At one time a dog, at another time a carcass, how will you run with lions, or follow the saints?