When Soul Rises Into Lips You Feel

We Are The Mirror As Well As The Face In It. We Are Tasting The Taste This Minute Of Eternity. We Are Pain And What Cures Pain Both. We Are The Sweet Cold Water And The Jar That Pours.

When You Have Indulged A Lust, Your Wing Drops Off; You Become Lame, Abandoned By A Fantasy. …people Fancy They Are Enjoying Themselves, But They Are Really Tearing Out Their Wings For The Sake Of An Illusion.

You’re A Song, A Wished-for Song.

I Want Your Sun To Reach My Raindrops, So Your Heat Can Raise My Soul Upward Like A Cloud.

Neither This Body Am I, Nor Soul, Nor These Fleeting Images Passing By, Nor Concepts And Thoughts, Mental Images, Nor Yet Sentiments And The Psyche's Labyrinth. Who Then Am I? A Consciousness Without Origin, Not Born In Time, Nor Begotten Here Below. I Am That Which Was, Is And Ever Shall Be, A Jewel In The Crown Of The Divine Self, A Star In The Firmament Of The Luminous One.