It is easy to see the glow but hard to recognize the awakening of silence.
Either all lights are turned off or one inner light is missing.
God is a cloud from which rain fell.
The light teaches you to convert life into a festive promenade.
We hear only our own voices, still echoes returning to our emptiness.
There can be no forced inspiration.
Faith is a question of eyesight; even the blind can see that.
It’s not easy to write a poem about a poem.
What we call life is only talk of nature.
Wherever there is somebody else, a war is not far away.
