The self says, I am; The heart says, I am less; The spirit says, you are Nothing.
I long for the imperishable quiet at the heart of form.
A terrible violence of creation,A flash into the burning heart of the abominable;Yet if we wait, unafraid, beyond the fearful instant,The burning lake turns into a forest pool,The fire subsides into rings of water,A sunlit silence.
The poet: would rather eat a heart than a hambone.
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