I Opened My Arms To Love And

The Ripe Fignow That You Live Here In My Chest,anywhere We Sit Is A Mountaintop.and Those Other Images,which Have Enchanted Peoplelike Porcelain Dolls From China,which Have Made Men And Women Weepfor Centuries, Even Those Have Changed Now.what Used To Be Pain Is A Lovely Benchwhere We Can Rest Under The Roses.a Left Hand Has Become A Right.a Dark Wall, A Window.a Cushion In A Shoe Heel,the Leader Of The Community!now Silence. What We Sayis Poison To Someand Nourishing To Others.what We Say Is A Ripe Fig,but Not Every Bird That Flieseats Figs.

Burdens Are The Foundations Of Ease And Bitter Things The Forerunners Of Pleasure.

If You Want To Ascend Like The Prophet To The Sky Of Immortality, Know This Very Well: Fasting Is Your Arabian Stallion.

To Love Is Human. To Feel Pain Is Human. Yet To Still Love Despite The Pain Is Pure Angel.

The Moon Has Become A Dancer At This Festival Of Love.