There are those who nourish themselves well
But bear their fruits only in the summer,
He who holds his head up with the clouds
Can turn his thoughts to cast his shadow
Even to cast his rain
If not for my conversation with love
No pen would have found these hands
No words would have found this heart
Not even God would have found this soul

We all know what that empty is,
for each one of us.
sometimes we can't understand,
for the hole is dark and seems to never end.
perhaps we should cry
and fill it with tears,
and at night when we sleep,
the moon will swathe its splendour across it.
perhaps then it would be easier to reflect
thus easier to understand.
Take out your hands from the pities of your mind
Then build that space round which words are given form.
To embrace the truth,
reject it.
To know the truth,
forget it.
Instead of hanging from the sun,
let it go.
Drop entirely through the earth.
Then fall into moonlight.
You will think you've found God
till you lose your self,
and only when you've lost it
will you find Him inside.
That makes a zillion different views
So simple to choose from
I have seen that most are happy
To only choose one
There is beauty in the blind, and the unseen
Pain is mighty and far more than our understanding
If you can let it shape your heart to the will of design
And trust the hand with which it binds
You may well begin to see again
With an eye's sight
Or without
...
.