The Ocean Of The Body Crashes Against

Silence Is An Ocean. Speech Is A River. When The Ocean Is Searching For You, Don't Walk Into The Language-river. Listen To The Ocean, And Bring Your Talky Business To An End. Traditional Words Are Just Babbling In That Presence, And Babbling Is A Substitute For Sight.

Even When You Tear Its Petals Off One After Another, The Rose Keeps Laughing And Doesn’t Bend In Pain. “why Should I Be Afflicted Because Of A Thorn? It Is The Thorn Which Taught Me How To Laugh.” Whatever You Lost Through Fate, Be Certain That It Saved You From Pain.

My Soul Is My Guide, For My Soul Is Of That Abode. I Will Not Speak Of The Earthly. I Am Of The Unknown

A Man Or A Woman Is Said To Be Absorbed When The Water Has Total Control Of Him, And He No Control Of The Water. A Swimmer Moves Around Willfully. An Absorbed Being Has No Will But The Water's Going. Any Word Or Act Is Not Really Personal, But The Way The Water Has Of Speaking Or Doing. As When You Hear A Voice Coming Out Of A Wall, And You Know That It's Not The Wall Talking, But Someone Inside, Or Perhaps Someone Outside Echoing Off The Wall. Saints Are Like That. They've Achieved The Condition Of A Wall, Or A Door.

That Which God Said To The Rose, And Caused It To Laugh In Full-blown Beauty, He Said To My Heart, And Made It A Hundred Times More Beautiful.