Not The Ones Speaking The Same Language,

The Wound Is The Place Where The Light Enters You.

Not Christian Or Jew Or Muslim, Not Hindu, Buddhist, Sufi Or Zen. Not Any Religion Or Cultural System. I Am Not Of The East, Nor Of The West.... My Place Is Placeless, A Trace Of The Traceless.

You Are A Lover Of Your Own Experience ... Not Of Me ... You Turn To Me To Feel Ur Own Emotion

There Is A Morning Inside You Waiting To Burst Open Into Light.

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!