Who Will Ever Kiss This Encyclopedia Of

Just As There Exists In Writing A Literal Truth And A Poetic Truth, There Also Exists In A Human Being A Literal Anatomy And A Poetic Anatomy. One, You Can See; One, You Cannot. One Is Made Of Bones And Teeth And Flesh; The Other Is Made Of Energy And Memory And Faith. But They Are Both Equally True.

The Yogic Path Is About Disentangling The Built-in Glitches Of The Human Condition, Which I'm Going To Over-simply Define Here As The Heartbreaking Inability To Sustain Contentment.

One Of These Poems I Wrote After Having Been Here Only A Month. The Other, I Wrote This Morning. In The Space Between The Two Poems, I Have Found Acres Of Grace

Who Loves You Most? Who Loves You Best? Who Thinks Of You When Others Rest?

Why Must Everything Be Repeat And Repeat, Never Finish, Never Resting? You Work So Hard One Day, But The Next Day You Must Only Work Again. You Eat, But The Next Day, You Are Already Hungry. You Find Love, Then Love Goes Away. You Are Born With Nothing, You Work Hard, Then You Die With Nothing. You Are Young, Then You Are Old. No Matter How Hard You Work, You Cannot Stop Getting Old. - Wayan