The Glance: Songs of Soul-Meeting (Compass)

Language is an annoying clatter in the mill of meaning. A silent river turns the millstone.

Love looks like fire.

A moth flying into the flames says with its wingfire, Try this. The wick with its knotted neck broken tells you the same. A candle as it diminishes explains, Gathering more and more is not the way. Burn, become light

player touches the strings,

Jars of springwater are not enough anymore.

I agree with Osho Raj neesh that a truth not lived is not a truth.