We Come Spinning Out Of Nothingness, Scattering

People Are Distracted By Objects Of Desire, And Afterwards Repent Of The Lust They've Indulged, Because They Have Indulged With A Phantom And Are Left Even Farther From Reality Than Before. Your Desire For The Illusory Is A Wing, By Means Of Which A Seeker Might Ascend To Reality. When You Have Indulged A Lust, Your Wing Drops Off; You Become Lame And That Fantasy Flees. Preserve The Wing And Don't Indulge Such Lust, So That The Wing Of Desire May Bear You To Paradise. People Fancy They Are Enjoying Themselves, But They Are Really Tearing Out Their Wings For The Sake Of An Illusion.

Water The Fruit Trees And Don’t Water The Thorns.

Be Quiet Now And Wait. It May Be That The Ocean One, The One We Desire So To Move Into And Become, Desires Us Out Here On Land A Little Longer, Going Our Sundry Roads To The Shore.

There Is A Place Where Words Are Born Of Silence.

Who Could Be So Lucky? Who Comes To A Lake For Water And Sees The Reflection Of Moon.