one-love

I am one and when I am one I am none, and when I am none I have won.

Either You see GOD in all or You don't see GOD at all.

Recognizing that God exists in all of us is the first step toward genuine kindness.

Lovers dream of one more embrace.One more kiss.One act of love, no matter how small.For in loving, lover and belovedemptied themselves.Now, they look for their oasislike men engulfed in flames.Even filled to the brim, they will never satiate. For they continue to leak, thesecracked vessels.How else did love seep through?

Do the lovers know that when they whisper these poems they are commemorating our love?Do they ever think of you and meor only of themselves?Do they know that I once found a strand of your hairand wore it around my necklike a necklace?That I kiss your handsmore than I kiss your lips?Do they realise that our love and their love are drops in the universe__ ocean of loveand that without any of these drops, the ocean would be less?

Can we share my eyes so you can see what I see?Can we share my ears so you can hear what I hear?Can you perch on my shouldersso you can go where I go?Always in my heart, I don__ experience anything separate from you.This shared wonderment becomes doubled.This shared love becomes infinite.

Love without conditions, restrictions, or the expectation of being loved in return.

The only thing necessary in this world is love. Everything else is secondary.

We are all lost, so lost, vulnerable and insecure. We are separated from love at birth, we are separated from God, from each other. All we want, all we yearn for is to connect.

Break open your heart so that I may enter it.

I couldn__ have dreamed you into existence because I didn__ even know I needed you. You must have been sent to me.

I'm not here to grant you the extraordinary love you never had for yourself. I'm here, on my own accord, to love you. So that when you stare into my mirror eyes, you may see how extraordinary you are.

My dear, please be careful.You no longer live only for yourself.You live for me as well.

I've written you sixty-seven love poems.Here__ another one for you.But really, for me.These poems are the candles that I light with the fire you have ignited in me.I place this candle here and another thereso even if the stars have argued with the moonand are sulking away in a corner, you can still find your way to me.Sixty-eight poems now. What does the future hold for us?Joy? Disappointment? Gentle caresses? And subtle neglect?I hope the good is more than the bad. Much more. For what is the point of loveif by lighting these candlesour own flame loses its brightness?I know the good is more than the bad. Much more.I cannot wait to write you sixty-nine.

Name and form are simply illusions of separation. Love doesn__ make us blind; rather, it erases the illusions so we can see clearly.

Love is our religion. Love is our light. It is the only thing that gives us any hope.

Each of us is like all of us and like no one else.

I don__ want to be remembered for my work. I want to be remembered for my love.