The Body's A Mirror Of Heaven: Its

Whatever You Are Looking For Can Only Be Found Inside Of You.

Lovers Find Secret Places Inside This Violent World Where They Make Transactions With Beauty.

I Am Dying Into Your Mystery, And Dying, I Am Now No Other Than That Mystery. I Open To Your Majesty As An Orchard Welcomes Rain, And Twenty Times That.

We Are All The Same Listen To The Reeds As They Sway Apart; Hear Them Speak Of Lost Friends. At Birth, You Were Cut From Your Bed, Crying And Grasping In Separation. Everyone Listens, Knowing Your Song. You Yearn For Others Who Know Your Name, And The Words To Your Lament. We Are All The Same, All The Same, Longing To Find Our Way Back; Back To The One, Back To The Only One.

The Art Of Knowing Is Knowing What To Ignore.