Birdsong Brings Relief To My Longing. I

In Fact, I Am Aware Of The Fake Entities In My Life. I Know That I Can Clear Them If I Wanted To In A Moment. But All This Hollowness Needs My Sincerity.

Free Of Who I Was, Free Of Presence, Free Of Dangerous Fear, Hope, Free Of Mountainous Wanting.

God Picks Up The Reed-flute World And Blows. Each Note Is A Need Coming Through One Of Us, A Passion, A Longing Pain. Remember The Lips Where The Wind-breath Originated, And Let Your Note Be Clear. Don't Try To End It. Be Your Note.

My Friend, You Thought You Lost Him; That All Your Life You've Been Separated From Him. Filled With Wonder, You've Always Looked Outside For Him, And Haven't Searched Within Your Own House.

Each Has To Enter The Nest Made By The Other Imperfect Bird.