When Life Does Not Find

We Are All Like The Bright Moon, We Still Have Our Darker Side.

You Are Not Enclosed Within Your Bodies, Nor Confined To Houses Or Fields. That Which Is You Dwells Above The Mountain And Roves With The Wind.

All Things In This Creation Exist Within You And All Things In You Exist In Creation; There Is No Border Between You And The Closest Things, And There Is No Distance Between You And The Farthest Things, And All Things, From The Lowest To The Loftiest, From The Smallest To The Greatest, Are Within You As Equal Things.

Love Has No Other Desire But To Fulfill Itself.

Your Joy Is Your Sorrow Unmasked. And The Same Well From Which Your Laughter Rises Was Oftentimes Filled With Your Tears. And How Else Can It Be? The Deeper That Sorrow Carves Into Your Being, The More Joy You Can Contain. Is Not The Cup That Holds Your Wine The Very Cup That Was Burned In The Potter's Oven? And Is Not The Lute That Soothes Your Spirit, The Very Wood That Was Hollowed With Knives?