What Shall I Say, O Muslims, I

Reason Is Powerless In The Expression Of Love.

Beauty Surrounds Us, But Usually We Need To Be Walking In A Garden To Know It. Rumi, Attributed, Conquest Of Abundance: A Tale Of Abstraction Versus The Richness Of Being Don't Grieve. Anything You Lose Comes Round In Another Form.

Now I Am Sober And There's Only The Hangover And The Memory Of Love.

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.

Not Christian Or Jew Or Muslim, Not Hindu, Buddhist, Sufi Or Zen. Not Any Religion Or Cultural System. I Am Not Of The East, Nor Of The West.... My Place Is Placeless, A Trace Of The Traceless.