Beyond ideas, there's a field. Will you meet me there?
Maybe you are searching among the branches, for what only appears in the roots.
Be melting snow. Wash yourself of yourself.
I've brought you a mirror. Look at yourself and remember me.
I long to escape the prison of my ego and lose myself in You.
The minute I heard my first love story, I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was. Lovers don't finally meet somewhere. They're in each other all along.