At night, I open the window and ask the moon to come and press its face against mine. Breathe into me. Close the language - door and open the love - window. The moon won’t use the door, only the window.
Your hand opens and closes, opens and closes. If it were always a fist or always stretched open, you would be paralysed. Your deepest presence is in every small contracting and expanding, the two as beautifully balanced and coordinated as birds’ wings.
My Place is the placeless, my trace is the traceless; ‘I’ is neither body nor soul, for ‘I’ belong to the soul of the Beloved. I have put duality away, I have seen that the two worlds are one; One I seek, One I know, One I see, One I call.
The time has come to turn your heart into a temple of fire. Your essence is gold hidden in dust. To reveal its splendour you need to burn in the fire of love.
O soul, you worry too much. You have seen your own strength. You have seen your own beauty. You have seen your golden wings. Of anything less, why do you worry? You are in truth the soul, of the soul, of the soul.
Nothing I say can explain to you divine love. Yet all of creation cannot seem to stop talking about it.
The time has come to turn your heart into a temple of fire. Your essence is gold hidden in dust. To reveal its splendour you need to burn in the fire of love.
Those who are pure in heart achieve God-consciousness; they are truly and actually aware of God at the centre of their being.
