Love has nothing to do with the other person. It is closer to you.
Love is electricity, raw, wild, uncontainable. It is what you are.
Love does not split itself between the lover and their beloved, for that would make two.
Love does not long for ‘the perfect lover’, for who would long for it?
Love is prior to the imagination of separation, prior to the urge to possess or contain.
Love comes before grasping, grabbing, striving, needing another for completion.
Love does not try to make itself loveable.
In truth, I cannot love you. You cannot give me love nor can you take it away.
I cannot seek love, nor can I hold it. Nor will I ever lose it, this universal love that moves the stars, that turns the soil, that holds us all in its infinite embrace, that knows no death.
In the place where we once imagined separation, in the dark place, we find only absolute intimacy with life, unspeakable closeness with every breath, sensation, feeling, with anyone – friend, lover, stranger, brother, sister – who enters the field. Every doubt, every moment of sadness, every surge of fear, has a home here.
There is no loneliness when you are the earth.
I cannot love you, friend, for I am what you are, and we are too close to divide.
Prior to time, way before space, we meet, in the absence of world.
Two cannot become one, if there were never two.
Come into my heart, there is endless room.
There is nothing to seek, here in the vastness.
