It is part of the nature of every definitive love that sooner or later it can reach the beloved only in infinity.

All the soarings of my mind begin in my blood.

How can I keep my soul in me$$$ so that it doesn't touch your soul? How can I raise it high enough$$$ past you$$$ to other things?

Embrace your solitude and love it. Endure the pain it causes$$$ and try to sing out with it. For those near to you are distant...

Make your ego porous. Will is of little importance$$$ complaining is nothing$$$ fame is nothing. Openness$$$ patience$$$ receptivity$$$ solitude is everything.

I want to be with those who know secret things or else alone.

O how can wicked men seem so steady and untouched with such black hearts$$$ while poor innocents stand like malefactors before them!

It draws it's strength$$$ this big secret$$$ from the same root from which I draw my strength$$$ both the good and the bad$$$ because in the end$$$ they cannot be separated.

I'm hoping what all sentient beings hope ... that somehow I'm part of something larger than myself$$$ in which I play a role$$$ an actual role that is somehow intended and meaningful.

I stumble through a carnival of horrors