Wings Of Love Long Only To Fly

The Waterwheel Accepts Water And Turns And Gives It Away, Weeping.

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.

Knowing That Conscious Decisions And Personal Memory Are Much Too Small A Place To Live, Every Human Being Streams At Night Into The Loving Nowhere, Or During The Day, In Some Absorbing Work.

Your Calling My Name Is My Reply. Your Longing For Me Is My Message To You.

I Feel Like The Earth, Astonished At Fragrance Borne In The Air, Made Pregnant With Mystery From A Drop Of Rain.