You Are Fastened To Them And Cannot

My Poverty Is Not Complete: It Lacks Me.

The Fear Of Separation Is All That Unites.

When The Superficial Wearies Me, It Wearies Me So Much That I Need An Abyss In Order To Rest.

When I Do Not Walk In The Clouds I Walk As Though I Were Lost.

Human Suffering, While It Is Asleep, Is Shapeless. If It Is Wakened It Takes The Form Of The Waker.