THIS TORTURE Why should we tell you our love stories when you spill them together like blood in the dirt? Love is a pearl lost on the ocean floor, or a fire we can’t see, but how does saying that push us through the top of the head into the light above the head? Love is not an iron pot, so this boiling energy won’t help. Soul, heart, self. Beyond and within those is one saying, How long before I’m free of this torture!

We can't help being thirsty, moving toward the voice of water.

I grow silent. Dear soul, you speak.

Don't allow your animal nature to rule your reason.

She loved him so much she concealed his name in many phrases, the inner meanings known only to her.

Pull the thorn of existence out of the heart! Fast! For when you do, you will see thousands of rose gardens in yourself.

Pain is a treasure, for it contains mercies.