When We Talk About God, We’re Like

I Have Found The Heart And Will Never Leave This House Of Light.

Why Struggle To Open A Door Between Us When The Whole Wall Is An Illusion?

Poems Reach Up Like Spindrift And The Edge Of Driftwood Along The Beach, Wanting! They Derive From A Slow And Powerful Root That We Can’t See. Stop The Words Now. Open The Window In The Center Of Your Chest, And Let The Spirits Fly In And Out.

The Satiated Person And The Hungry One Do Not See The Same Thing When They Look Upon A Loaf Of Bread.

What Is Planted In Each Person's Soul Will Sprout.