No One Knows What Makes The Soul

Cease Looking For Flowers! There Blooms A Garden In Your Own Home. While You Look For Trinkets The Treasure House Awaits You In Your Own Being.

The World's Flattery And Hypocrisy Is A Sweet Morsel: Eat Less Of It, For It Is Full Of Fire. Its Fire Is Hidden While Its Taste Is Manifest, But Its Smoke Becomes Visible In The End.

Oh You, Unceasing Sun, To Me Your Particles Communicate The Luminous Essence Of God, Are You Our God? I Do Not Know. Intoxicated, I Say Nought, Bewitched By The Magic Potion. I Cannot Differentiate Between My Drunk And Sober State.

The Soul Lives There In The Silent Breath.

The Message Behind The Words Is The Voice Of The Heart.