What Shall I Say, O

You May Learn To Imitate A Birdcall, But Do You Experience What The Nightingale Feels For The Rose?

Whatever Lifts The Corners Of Your Mouth, Trust That

The Agony Of Lovers Burns With The Fire Of Passion. Lovers Leave Traces Of Where They've Been. The Wailing Of Broken Hearts Is The Doorway To God.

Criticism Polishes My Mirror.

There’s A Morning When Presence Comes Over Your Soul. You Sing Like A Rooster In Your Earth-colored Shape. Your Heart Hears And, No Longer Frantic, Begins To Dance.