Sometimes I look at the last scratch and think this is no way to end, and then I scratch, and scratch, and scratch again. Sometimes I look and think this is the perfect way to end, and then I scratch, and scratch, and scratch again. Sometimes I look and I do end, only to find myself scratching again. And then I look at them. I look at them, and think […]
Leave the leaves where they fall — yes, leave the leaves, ’til they’re not leaves at all. . [ 1616 ]
A fingertip across the lips — how silent I become when the echo is gone! . [ 1614 ]
Mist rises from an icy pond — each the other — a water wheel. What is illness but a place I visit when I believe that I’m alone? I’m healed in the present — yes, that’s what love has done. . [ 1613 ]
Infinite, perfect, effortlessly unfolding — such is life, such is nature, such is the universe. And when I see myself as apart from it, that is my pain, my unhappiness, my curse. . [ 1612 ]
Where am I when I’m lost in thought? Not here. Not present. Nowhere. Who am I when I’m present? No one. Everyone. And when I’m not? William. . [ 1611 ]
When you see that the tree is you, and that you are the tree, the birds will light on your branches. . [ 1610 ]
Letting go the precious image of oneself — the habit, the mask, the careworn cloak — isn’t this the fear of death? And if it is, why not let go now and be completely free, like the wind that blows and snow that falls? In life and deed — why not be a wise old child? . [ 1609 ]
William Michaelian 