Last night I held the world
in my arms,
and my heart broke into
a thousands shards,
...
I read the poems of Tagore for you
I read the poems of Tagore for you
to calm the fevers and the chills,
...
In a Paris cafe
on Rue De Barrie,
I watch a solitary man
...
When the mind is quiet
its a beautiful thing,
snowflakes in the winter
...
The passion of a poet
is rooted in the sacred,
there is nothing in this world that is not divine,
...
When your racehorse mind is running around the track,
and your body feels like a heavy sack,
go inside yourself
and find a soft armchair,
...
Again and again
I am reminded
of that word
the buddhists love,
...
If this were your last day
how would you spend it?
I know I would feel an urgency
I would want to tell those closest to me
...
The raw gritty depths of grief.
Forget
all the spiritual books
...