Don't Make The Body Do What The

Physical Existence Is So Cramped.we Grow Old And Bent Over Like Embryos.nine Months Passes;it Is Time To Be Born. The Lamb Wants To Graze Green Daylight. There Are Ways Of Being Born Twice,of Coming To Where You Fly,not Individually Like Birds, But As The Sun Moves With His Bride,sincerity.

In Truth Everything And Everyone Is A Shadow Of The Beloved, And Our Seeking Is His Seeking And Our Words Are His Words... We Search For Him Here And There, While Looking Right At Him. Sitting By His Side, We Ask: 'o Beloved, Where Is The Beloved?'

I Will Find New Meaning In Every Joy And Sorrow.

There Is No Worse Sickness For The Soul, O You Who Are Proud, Than This Pretense Of Perfection.

In Your Beauty, How To Make Poems.