Little by little, you will turn into stars.
Even then, my dear, you will only be a crawling infant, still skinning your knees. Little by little, you will turn into a whole, sweet, amerous universe, in heat on a wild spring night and become so free in a wonderful, secrete and pure love that flows from a concious, one pointed infinite need for light.
You don’t have to act crazy. We all know your good at that. Now retire, my dear, for all that hard work you do of bringing pain to your sweet eyes and heart.
We should make all spiritual talk simple today. It is trying to sell you something you don’t want to buy. That is what your suffering is. Whereas, my child, I’m afraid you still think you have a thousand serious wounds.
“I Heard God Laughing Renderings of Hafiz” by Daniel Ladinsky
who sent this to me?