The Meaning Of Poetry Has No Sureness

We Came Whirling Out Of Nothingness, Scattering Stars Like Dust... The Stars Made A Circle, And In The Middle, We Dance.

People Are Distracted By Objects Of Desire, And Afterward Repent Of The Lust They've Indulged, Because They Have Indulged With A Phantom And Are Left Even Farther From Reality Than Before.

One Day You Will Take Me Completely Out Of Myself, I'll Do What The Angels Cannot Do. Your Eyelash Will Write On My Cheek The Poem That Hasn't Been Thought Of.

You Are The Soul And The Medicine For What Wounds The Soul.

You The One In All, Say Who I Am. Say I Am You.