Hear from the heart wordless mysteries.
In the silence between your heartbeat bides a summons. Do you hear it? Name it if you must, or leave it forever nameless, but why pretend it is not there?
The fluteplayer puts breath into a flute, and who makes the music? Not the flute. The Fluteplayer!
Tis easy to break an idol, very easy: to regard the self as easy to subdue is folly, folly.
Either give me more wine or leave me alone.
What does this patch-sewing mean you ask? Eating and drinking. The heavy cloak of the body is always getting torn. You patch it with food and other ego-satisfactions.
For without you, I swear, the town Has become like a prison to me. Distraction and the mountain And the desert, all I desire.
Love rests on no foundation. It is an endless ocean, with no beginning or end.
Lovers think they are looking for each other, but there is only one search: wandering This world is wandering that, both inside one transparent sky. In here there is no dogma and no heresy.
Without you the instruments would die. One sits close beside you. Another takes a long kiss. The tambourine begs, Touch my skin so I can be myself. Let me feel you enter each limb bone by bone, that what died last night can be whole today. Why live some soberer way, and feel you ebbing out? I won't do it. Either give me enough wine or leave me alone, now that I know how it is to be with you in constant conversation.
Your eyes are even smaller, yet they behold the world.
Whosoever knoweth the power of the dance, dwelleth in God.
Everything has to do with loving and not loving.
I was a tiny bug. Now a mountain. I was left behind. Now honored at the head. You healed my wounded hunger and anger, and made me a poet who sings about joy.
If you put your soul against the oar with me, the power that made the universe will enter your sinew from a source not outside of your limbs, but from a holy realm that lives within us.
What can I do my friends, if I do not know? I am neither Christian nor Jew, nor Muslim nor Hindu. What can I do? What can I do? Not of the East, nor of the West, Nor of the land, nor of the sea, Not of nature's essence, nor of circling heavens. What could I be?
Love asks us to enjoy our life For nothing good can come of death. Who is alive? I ask. Those who are born of love. Seek us in love itself, Seek love in us ourselves. Sometimes I venerate love, Sometimes it venerates me.
When I die, I shall soar with angels, and when I die to the angels, what I shall become you cannot imagine.
Why, when God's world is so big, did you fall asleep in a prison, of all places?
Be drunk with Love, for Love is all that exists. Where is intimacy found if not in the give and take of Love.
Return from existence to nonexistence. You are seeking the Lord and you belong to him. Nonexistence is a place of income; flee it not. This existence of more and less is a place of expenditure.
Where, with your one rose you can buy hundreds of rose gardens?
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!
I am dying into your mystery, and dying, I am now no other than that mystery. I open to your majesty as an orchard welcomes rain, and twenty times that.
Intelligence is the shadow of objective truth. How can the shadow vie with sunshine?
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