Where The Lips Are Silent The Heart

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.

You Are Quaffing Drink From A Hundred Fountains: Whenever Any Of These Hundred Yields Less, Your Pleasure Is Diminished. But When The Sublime Fountain Gushes From Within You, No Longer Need You Steal From The Other Fountains.

Whoever Gives Reverence Receives Reverence.

Let Yourself Be Drawn By The Stronger Pull Of That Which You Truly Love.

Not Christian Or Jew Or Muslim, Not Hindu, Buddhist, Sufi, Or Zen. Not Any Religion Or Cultural System. I Am Not From The East Or The West, Not Out Of The Ocean Or Up From The Ground, Not Natural Or Ethereal, Not Composed Of Elements At All. I Do Not Exist, Am Not An Entity In This World Or The Next, Did Not Descend From Adam Or Eve Or Any Origin Story. My Place Is Placeless, A Trace Of The Traceless. Neither Body Or Soul. I Belong To The Beloved, Have Seen The Two Worlds As One And That One Call To And Know, First, Last, Outer, Inner, Only That Breath Breathing Human Being.