Is it really so that the one I love is everywhere?
In your light I learn how to love. In your beauty, how to make poems. You dance inside my chest where no-one sees you, but sometimes I do, and that sight becomes this art.
The result of my life is no more than three words: I was raw, I became cooked, I was burnt.
Oh soul, you worry too much. You have seen your own strength. You have seen your own beauty. You have seen your golden wings. Of anything less, why do you worry? You are in truth the soul, of the soul, of the soul.
O Love, O pure deep Love, be here, be now, Be all – worlds dissolve into your stainless endless radiance, Frail living leaves burn with your brighter than cold stares – Make me your servant, your breath, your core.
The soul is here for its own joy.
You think you are alive because you breathe air? Shame on you, that you are alive in such a limited way. Don’t be without Love, so you won’t feel dead. Die in Love and stay alive forever.
The heart has its own language. The heart knows a hundred thousand ways to speak.
What? Are you still pretending you are separate from the Beloved?
Love rests on no foundation. It is an endless ocean, with no beginning or end.
In your light I learn how to love.
Observe the wonders as they occur around you. Don’t claim them. Feel the artistry moving through and be silent. Don’t grieve. Anything you lose comes round in another form.
I would love to kiss you. The price of kissing is your life.
Oh my friend, all that you see of me is a shell, the rest belongs to love.
Travelers, it is late. Life’s sun is going to set. During these brief days that you have strength, be quick and spare no effort of your wings.
When one sense perceives the hidden, the invisible world becomes apparent to the whole.
God turns you from one feeling to another and teaches by means of opposites so that you will have two wings to fly, not one.
The cure for pain is in the pain.
Lovers find secret places inside this violent world where they make transactions with beauty.
This place is a dream. Only a sleeper considers it real. Then death comes like dawn, and you wake up laughing at what you thought was your grief.