Your Grief For What You've Lost Lifts

Be Certain That In The Religion Of Love There Are No Believers And Unbelievers. Love Embraces All.

With Every Breath, I Plant The Seeds Of Devotion, I Am A Farmer Of The Heart.

I Want A Heart Which Is Split, Part By Part, Because Of The Pain Of Separation From God, So That I Might Explain My Longing And Complaint To It.

Do You Think I Know What I'm Doing? That For One Breath Or Half-breath I Belong To Myself? As Much As A Pen Knows What It's Writing, Or The Ball Can Guess Where It's Going Next.

We Are All The Same ... All The Same... Longing To Find Our Way Back ... Back To The One ... Back To The Only One!