Some clouds do not obscure the moon, and there are mornings
when drops of rain descent
from an open sky. A saint is a cloud that’s here, but
with its cloud nature
erased. Something in us wants no intermediary, no nurse,
just to be the wide blue
merged with the mothers breast, sublime emptiness. There
is a way of leaving the
world that nourishes the world. Don’t do anything for
applause…
What you are is a soul
that is both food and hunger, longing and what the
longing is for. Remember
that, and try then to experience renunciation.