Awake Asleep Ought To Be

O, Happy The Soul That Saw Its Own Faults.

Love Will Find Its Way Through All Languages On Its Own.

Don’t Knock On Any Random Door Like A Beggar. Reach Your Long Hand Out To Another Door, Beyond Where You Go On The Street, The Street Where Everyone Says, "how Are You?" And No One Says How Aren’t You?

All Religions, All This Singing, One Song. The Differences Are Just Illusion And Vanity. The Sun’s Light Looks A Little Different On This Wall Than It Does On That Wall, And A Lot Different On This Other One, But It’s Still One Light.

He Who Tastes Not, Knows Not.