I Am Weary Of Personal Worrying, In

Someone Who Goes With A Half A Loaf Of Bread To A Small Place That Fits Like A Nest Around Him, Someone Who Wants No More, Who Is Not Himself Longed For By Anyone Else. He Is A Letter To Everyone. You Open It. It Says, Live.

I, You, He, She, We In The Garden Of Mystic Lovers, These Are Not True Distinctions.

This That Is Tormented And Very Tired, Tortured With Restraints Like A Madman, This Heart.

You Can Accomplish A Hundred Other Things But If You Do Not Accomplish The One Thing For Which You Have Been Sent, It Will Be As If You Have Done Nothing.

Through Love All That Is Bitter Will Be Sweet, Through Love All That Is Copper Will Be Gold, Through Love All Dregs Will Become Wine, Through Love All Pain Will Turn To Medicine.